


Steve Rogers Is A Child

by LagLemon



Series: Steve Rogers Is A Child [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Domestic Fluff, Drowning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, LMD's, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Mentions of religion, Mild Medical Torture, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Psychological Trauma, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Torture, Violence, Violence against Life Model Decoys, adult becomes a child, child out of time, hydrophobia, mentions of torture, talking about bullies, talking about the great depression, transformations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-26 13:11:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 290,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LagLemon/pseuds/LagLemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony gets into fights with Steve all the time and it's driving him insane.  Sure, he's not the nicest guy in the world, but all he did was steal a little of the guy's sesame seed bagel - he didn't deserve to get yelled at for something stupid like that.  </p><p>After drowning his sorrows in hot chocolate and complaining to Pepper about what happened, Tony gets a phone call from Natasha telling him to hurry back home.  Something's happened - Steve has been attacked and he's not quite the same man he once was - he's been turned into a child.</p><p>With Steve out of commission, the team struggles with what to do and Tony finds himself filling roles he had never expected: babysitter and friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [童“装”史蒂夫](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3255512) by [6per](https://archiveofourown.org/users/6per/pseuds/6per)



> Let me know if you spot anything weird and I'll fix it. If possible, please give me the chapter number so I can find it faster! There might be horribly inaccurate history here - I'm not sure. just a warning. Thanks for reading :D
> 
> ** just so you know - LMD's are Life Model Decoys. They're androids that look/act/replicate humans, and are so good at it, it's hard to tell if they're human or robot. They're mainly used in the comics, but Tony did reference them in The Avengers movie. **
> 
> If you have any questions, feel free to drop me a line on my tumblr account at - http://laglemon.tumblr.com/ I'm more than happy to answer questions : )

“He’s a big _baby_ ,” Tony growled into his phone. The rain started pouring harder, so he ducked under an overhanging sign as he continued on his way down the sidewalk. He had managed to escape the last debriefing of the day, and he was just about ready to start punching people in the face for no good reason; that was what Steve Rogers seemed to bring out of him these days – rage and uncontrollable swearing. “No – _correction_. He’s a big, _stupid_ baby.”

“Tony, you’re yelling.” Pepper sounded irritated, as usual.

Tony rounded the corner, stomping into a coffee shop called Laurel’s to get out of the rain. He held the phone up to his ear as he paid for the largest hot chocolate they had on menu and then found himself a window seat while he waited for them to make it. He wrung out his shirt on the floor, trying to ignore the way his pants had grown skin tight. “He screamed at me in front of Nick Fury – about a fucking sesame seed _bagel_. Can you believe that?” Tony said into the phone, leaning back against his chair. “All I did was steal a bite and he almost ripped my arms off for it. A _bagel_ , Pepper – he would have murdered me for a _bagel_. Tell me I’m not being crazy.”

“You know how he is with food,” Pepper chided through the phone. “Natasha told you all about the steak incident for a reason you know. It wasn’t just a joke.”

“I know, I know,” Tony groaned, shifting the phone to his other ear. The barista was kind enough to drop off his hot chocolate and a hunk of biscotti the size of his hand before slipping away; the fifty dollar tip probably had something to do with that. Tony bit into his biscotti, licking whipped cream off of the lip of the cup. “I think he hates me.”

“Well can you blame him? You’ve told me that you hate _him_ at least five times a week since you met him. He’s probably picking up on the negative energy,” Pepper snorted. “Look, I’ve got seven different meetings to get to since you don’t have the time – and we both know that’s a lie, before you start in with your _oh Pepper’s_. You’ve got a flight to catch tonight – remember? I don’t want to find out you’ve missed it – we’ve rescheduled the Tokyo meeting seven times already. They’re going to get mad.”

“Yeah, yeah,”

“Is there anything else you need to tell me about before I have to go? Because I can’t do anything about the bagel, Tony. You’re going to have to go out and buy him another one or something,” Pepper said dryly. “Maybe send him a basket of mini-muffins? He likes food. Buy him more food.”

“Fine, I’ll buy the rude guy _food_ ,” Tony muttered, swirling his biscotti in his hot chocolate. The chocolate shavings on the whipped cream melted into a pathetic puddle of sludge; he drank the entire thing down in one gulp, ignoring the way his teeth cried out in protest. “You coming back for dinner?”

“No,” Pepper sighed. “I’m not going to make it this week. Rain check?”

“Sure,” Tony said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How’s Happy?”

“He’s good. We’re both doing fine. Have you spoken to Rhodey?”

“A little,”

“He’s heading back from his tour of duty soon, isn’t he?” She went quiet and then something rustled in the background; her voice came back strong. “His letter says he’s coming back on the fifteenth of May.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony nibbled at his biscotti, debating on how best to demolish it without any more hot chocolate to soak it in. He wondered if he could get away with ordering a few more cups. “I’m sure I got the memo.”

“ _Tony_ ,”

“What? It’s not my fault he’s angry,” Tony muttered, biting the biscotti hard enough to make his jaw ache. “ _He’s_ the one who wanted to take War Machine out for a test spin without consulting me.”

“You told him it was fine,”

“Well it wasn’t,” Tony said, dropping the remainder of his biscotti onto his plate. “He should have talked with me.”

“Oh honey, he _did_ talk with you. He didn’t go behind your back to talk to Fury because he was being a jerk – he talked with him because he was worried they were going to screw you over and get you hurt again. He was looking out for you.”

“I know!” Tony put his head in his hands. “I know he didn’t mean it.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Pepper sounded tired. “Are you sleeping?”

“Yes,” Tony lied, shoving his cup and plate out of his way. He sprawled over the table, closing his eyes. “I’m sleeping just fine.”

“You’re lying _again_ ,” Pepper grumbled. “I wish you wouldn’t lie to me like that. You know I’ve got the nightmares too.”

“I know,”

“Alright – listen, I’d love to continue this, but I’ve got to go. You need to send Steve a bagel basket or something, and you need to phone Rhodey and talk with him,” Pepper said. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes Mother,” Tony grunted, his eyes still squeezed shut.

“Very funny,”

“I’ll give Steve his stupid bagels and phone Rhodey. Fine. Do I need to go down to the office to sign papers or anything?”

“No, I’ve taken care of it all. Just try and get some sleep on the flight, Mr. Stark,” Pepper said, softly. “Can you try and do that? I know it’s hard…”

“I don’t want to…”

“I know you don’t, but can you try? For me? Just for a few hours. You can have Jarvis time you or something. I worry when you’re out there running on fumes and coffee.”

“I’m buzzed on hot chocolate already. I don’t think I’m going to get any sleep anyway,” Tony said with a sigh. “But I get your point. Fine. I’ll go lay down when I get home, alright?”

“Alright. Take care, ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. You too. Tell Happy I said hi,”

“I’ll tell him. Talk to you later Tony,”

“Bye,”

Tony hung up, setting his phone on the table beside him. He looked around, trying to get his bearings. The place was small. The decorations on the walls were just short of becoming the wet dream of an entire commune; it was nice though, in a strangely hippie-dippie kind of way. There was probably enough white wash and rainbow tie-die in here to make a few thousand business suits cry in despair. He rubbed his forehead with the flat of his hand. Why did things always have to end up like this? Every time he tried to do something nice – every time he tried to be himself – it came back to bite him in the ass. He had known better, yeah – he had known better than to steal a bite of Steve’s stupid bagel, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. He had wanted Steve to smile at him, maybe roll his eyes unhappily – what he hadn’t counted on was Steve _screaming_ at him like he had just put his hand down the guy’s pants. For fuck’s sake, it wasn’t like he wasn’t _trying_ to be nice to Steve. He was! He had even invited the guy to live with him; sure, everyone had gotten an invite to live in the tower, but he had been extra special with Steve’s – he had gone to Steve’s crumby little apartment and groveled and everything. He wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t been trying!

The phone rang in front of him. He sighed, recognizing the ringtone, and picked it up. “What’s up?” He gritted out, not bothering with small talk, knowing Natasha wouldn’t appreciate it anyway.

“You’d better get down here,” Natasha said. She sounded flustered, maybe a little upset; it was hard to tell with her sometimes. Usually she just sounded bored. There was someone crying in the background – it sounded like a little kid. What the hell was a little kid doing around Natasha?

“Get down _where_?” Tony said, standing up. He picked up his plate and cup and took them to the bussing station, setting them down before heading out the door. The barista gave him a wave, and he smiled back at her.

“Get your ass to the Tower – _now, Stark_. Steve got hit by some kind of magical beam. We have a serious problem on our hands.”

 

 

Tony stalked through the lobby of Avengers Tower and headed up to the hospital wing. He felt shaky all over. He wondered idly if it was from all the sugar or the knowledge that Steve had been hurt; he was pretty sure it was just the sugar. “What’s going on Jarvis?” He stepped out of the elevator, striding towards the recovery ward as fast as possible, knowing the team would all be waiting for him.

“I believe you are going to want to see it first hand, sir,” Jarvis said.

“Right,” Tony sighed. He pushed open the door and walked inside. The team was gathered around a hospital bed; it was one of the plush ones that they only used when someone was suffering from a whole whack of broken bones and or stab wounds. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with Steve?”

Bruce stepped out of the way, turning to smile at Tony, nervously wringing his hands. “We just got him down for his nap. Maybe we should talk outside?”

“His… _nap_?” Tony peered around Bruce’s shoulder. There, lying prone amidst a pile of colourful blankets was a small blonde boy; he was stick thin and sickly looking, his skin milk white like he hadn’t been out in the sun for more than a few minutes at a time. Tony approached cautiously, peering at the monitors and then back to the boy. “Oh, my, god – is that – that can’t be – is that… is that _Steve_?”

Clint patted Tony on the shoulder, sitting down on the bed across from Steve’s. “That’s our fearless leader alright,” he sighed. “Bruce thinks he’s around seven years old – give or take a few months.”

“You’re _kidding_ ,” Tony rasped, looking from Clint to Steve, hoping to see the joke somehow; there were cameras all over the tower, but he didn’t think Jarvis would use them for _evil_. When nothing changed, he turned to Natasha, gnawing on his thumb. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

“No,” Natasha drawled, looking from Steve to Tony. “He’s around seven or so, like Clint said. Bruce measured him before you got here. He did scans – Bone density, length – blood panel, allergies. Steve’s small for his age, somewhat malnourished, but healthy despite that. He’s going to need clothing – some toys. You know – _kid_ stuff. Do you think you could handle that?”

Tony scowled at Natasha, mildly offended by her words. “How much do you think he’ll need?”

“The SHIELD doctors and consultants say that he’ll change back,” Bruce said, adjusting Steve’s blankets until they were wrapped around Steve’s shoulders again. Bruce scratched his head. “I don’t know Tony. I really don’t know.”

“That isn’t really an answer, is it?” Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No,” Bruce said. “It’s not, but it’s the best I have to offer at this point. All I can say is that it’s definitely magic, and it’ll wear off. I called in a favor with the SHIELD lab. They estimated the power of the spell – give or take – and they think it will stick around for six months or more, but beyond that they can’t tell.”

“Was it Loki?” Tony leaned over the side of the bed, brushing Steve’s bangs out of his face. The boy coughed weakly, burying his nose in his pillows, but didn’t wake. His cheeks went a soft pink from the exertion, as if coughing had been too much for him.

“Nay,” Thor murmured from his chair. “It is not Loki. My brother is still imprisoned, as are his fellow enchantresses and enchanters. There is no trace of Asgardian magic on Steve, and though I have asked Heimdall to see if he can find the culprit, there has been no answer. What is here is Midgardian by design – weak, but long lasting. I do not know what more we can do for Steve aside from waiting for the spell to end.”

“You think he’ll turn back?” Tony pursed his lips, eyeing Steve again. “I mean, he can’t stay like this. You’ve seen his medical files, right? The guy had everything in the book before the serum. It was a miracle he made it to _seven_ , let alone into his _twenties_.”

“That’s where we’re lucky,” Bruce said, gesturing to the monitors. “I had Jarvis run a full panel on him – blood work, biochemistry – EKG – the works. His blood’s still infused with the super serum – he’s healthy, although he doesn’t look it.”

“Well what kid from the great depression looked healthy?” Tony snorted. The 1930’s weren’t the best time to be a kid for anyone – let alone for someone living a single parent household. Steve’s mother had probably scraped and scrounged to keep him as healthy as he was; the medical reports had been staggering, the bills even more so. Tony pulled out his phone, turning away from Steve, afraid to look at him in case he woke up and looked back. “Alright. Well, I guess I’ve got some shopping to do. What size is he? Boys small?”

“ _Maybe_ – if he puts on weight,” Clint muttered. “Man, his file didn’t do him justice. Look at how _scrawny_ he is. I could fit two of him in a regular five year old. He looks like he’s going to break in half if he sneezes.”

“I don’t think he would appreciate hearing you say that,” Natasha said, squeezing Clint’s shoulder. “What do you think we should do?” She looked at Tony, her hand resting lightly on Clint’s arm, her lips drawn into a tight line.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Why are you asking me? I’m not the leader here.”

“Yeah, well _Steve’s_ the leader, and right now he’s down for his nap,” Clint chuckled darkly. “I think that puts you in charge, Mr. Moneybags.”

“Really? Little old me?” Tony grinned. “You’re putting the guy they didn’t want in the Avengers in charge?”

“You’re second in command. Steve wrote it into his safety plan, remember?” Bruce said, crossing his arms over his middle.

“He did?” Tony shook his head, putting his phone up to his ear. “Yeah, well, he didn’t tell _me_ any of that. Hold on – I’ve got to make a call.” He walked out the door, stepping outside into the hallway, knowing that his voice would carry; it always did in the hospital wing. That was one of the reasons he hated being down here; there was no privacy. Besides, he thought, trying to shrug off his unease, kids needed their naps after all, and he was damned if he was going to have to put up with a cranky little kid for the rest of the day. “Hello? Hi, Angie? I need to get some clothing ordered in special – boys small – yeah. I know. _No_. I do not have a secret love child. I would have told you if I did – you know me,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “What do you know about kid stuff? You know – toys? Colouring books? The whole shebang – yes.”

 

 

Tony sat down on the floor in his penthouse living room and started sorting through boxes. Angie had worked fast; she usually did considering the amount of money Tony threw her way for rush deliveries. There was enough clothing here to last three weeks or more if Steve didn’t grow a few inches. He had ordered in five whole boxes of stuffed animals, books and art supplies too. Mini-Steve was going to be so happy; adult-Steve, probably not so much. Tony sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

He looked at the boxes, wishing they would go deliver themselves so that he wouldn’t have to go down to Steve’s floor. Natasha had moved Steve back into his room as soon as he had woken up again; she had Clint pulling guard duty on Steve’s couch, waiting to see when and if Steve decided to show his face. According to her, Steve had been terrified. He had screamed for his mother until his voice had given out, and after that he had hidden himself away in his bedroom, wrapping himself up with his blankets. Thor had tried to calm him down, but even he hadn’t been able to do much more than get Steve to nod his head a few times.

“Sir?” Jarvis asked.

“Yes?” Tony stuffed the last of the clothing back into the box it had come out of, aware that his hands were shaking. He pressed them against the cardboard, taking in a deep breath.

“Captain Rogers is asking for you,”

Tony laughed weakly. “I’m assuming you’re still talking about Mini-Steve, right?”

“Yes, sir. Thor has finished showing him pictures of the team, and he is anxious to meet everyone now that he knows he isn’t in any danger.”

“Great,” Tony grumbled. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Perhaps bringing a gift with you would increase the likelihood of this meeting going well?” Jarvis said.

“Right,” Tony said, snapping his fingers. He grinned. He could do this – hell, he was rich Uncle Tony, now, wasn’t he? Kids liked gifts, right? Why was he nervous? This would be fine.

 

 

Tony hovered in the doorway, ready to pull out every last piece of his hair one strand at a time. Steve was looking through the boxes Tony had brought down with him, staring at everything with a critical eye, like he suspected something bad was going to happen if he didn’t check them over. It was a little disconcerting to see a seven year old giving a box of stuffed animals the hairy eyeball. Tony was tempted to take a picture, just to show Steve when he turned back into an adult again, but he thought better of it. Jarvis was recording it all through the security cameras after all. Who needed pictures when he could have stunning HD video instead?

Thor leaned against the wall beside Tony, seeming to sense his discomfort. “Fear not, Tony,” he said, nodding towards Steve, who was now staring wide-eyed at the box of art supplies, “the boy is suspicious, but he will relax when he is comfortable with the tower. He was quite startled when he woke to find us there – that may be the source of his unease. I’m sure with time he will come to like this place as much as his boyhood home.”

“Well, as long as he doesn’t act like a little asshole,” Tony said with a shrug, “I’m sure we’ll all be fine.”

Steve looked up sharply. “Ma says we’re not supposed to say words like that. She’ll wash your mouth out with soap.”

“I see,” Tony chuckled, examining his fingernails instead of looking Steve in the eye. “So you think that stuff’s alright for now?”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want anything else?” Tony asked, trying not to be sarcastic. Were _all_ children annoying like this? “Do you need anything else? Did I miss a toy or whatever?”

Steve shook his head rapidly. “ _No_ – no this is fine. Thank you, sir. I couldn’t ask for more.”

Tony shrugged. “It’s fine, you know – if you want something else just say the word. I’m loaded.”

“Loaded?” Steve cocked his head to the side, still looking a little nervous despite his newfound curiosity. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m rich,” Tony said. “Sorry. I forgot you don’t know all the slang - _again_.”

“I know slang,” Steve insisted, clutching a colouring book to his chest.

“Its fine, Steve,”

“You don’t have to be so angry about it,” Steve muttered, scowling at the floor.

“Who said I’m angry?” Tony grumbled. “Whatever. Look, I’ve got stuff to do. See you later, kid.” He slipped past a now scowling Thor, and ambled out into the living room. Well that had gone well. Here he was supposedly making a better first impression and he had fucked it up _again_. “Good introduction my ass,” he muttered, heading to the elevator. “Great job _Tony_. Even the kid version hates you.”

“Sir?” Steve shuffled into the living room, the colouring book still held tightly in his hands.

Tony paused, about to enter the elevator. “Yeah?”

“Can I come with you?”

Tony caught the door before it could close on him. “ _What_?”

“Can I come with you?” Steve looked down at his feet and then turned his attention to the room, not letting his eye rest on any one object for too long. “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble, sir.”

Tony stepped into the elevator, and held the doors open. “You can come with me on one condition – you are never allowed to call me sir again. Call me Tony.”

“Ok,” Steve said, darting forwards. He slipped inside the elevator, his eyes filled with wonder as he got a good look at the elevator buttons; he looked like he was itching to press one, but he was too short to manage it. Tony sighed to himself and then bent down, scooping Steve up. It was ridiculously easy to do too. Steve didn’t seem very happy about it at first, but after a few minor adjustments, he relaxed and seemed to accept the fact that Tony wasn’t going to drop him on his head.

“Here,” Tony said, holding Steve against his hip; the colouring book was jabbing him in his left nipple – and that hurt like a bitch – but it was a small price to pay for the smile on Steve’s face. “Press floor 92 for me, will you?”

Steve reached out, pressing the button so carefully it looked like he thought the damned thing would break. He pulled his hand back after, cuddling close, his cheek resting on Tony’s shoulder. “The elevator in our building doesn’t look like this.”

“Not many places have the cool kind of buttons we do,” Tony agreed as the elevator ascended. Steve felt lighter than a sack of potatoes; that thought alone was almost enough to break Tony’s brain. Steve Rogers – _light_? _Portable_? Impossible.

The elevator opened at his penthouse and he walked Steve inside, avoiding the living room in favor of hitting the kitchen. He set Steve down on one of his favourite cushy barstools, making sure the kid was balanced properly before he went around the island and started going through his cupboards, looking for sustenance.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, setting his colouring book down on the counter.

“I’m going to make us a snack,” Tony said, pulling a loaf of fluffy white bread out from his breadbox. He made a mental note to have Jarvis restock his kitchen again – this time with more kid-friendly foods. “You want a sandwich?” he asked over his shoulder, pulling out a bread knife.

Steve eyed the bread like he was thirsty and it was the last glass of water on the entire planet. “You’re going to use _that_?”

Tony chuckled. “Sure – why not? It’s in my kitchen and all.”

“But aren’t you supposed to ration things? Ma says we have to be careful with our food because it’s expensive,” Steve said, pulling a box of crayons out of his pocket. He opened the box slowly, running his fingers along each crayon. Tony smiled. Even tiny, he was the same old Steve.

“We’re not at war anymore kiddo,” Tony said, reaching for a tub of margarine. He paused, frowning at it. Would Steve even like this kind of margarine? Had they had it back in his day? He could remember reading about it being white like lard and something about it being coloured by powdered dye, but not much else. “Hey, what do you want on yours?” he asked instead of having Jarvis look it up; there was always time for research later, when Steve wasn’t watching him like a hawk.

He wasn’t sure how much the others had told the kid to be honest. Natasha had talked about limiting Steve’s exposure to the new world as much as possible; Bruce had been against that, claiming that it might cause psychological damage if they didn’t show him the world as it was now. Tony was pretty sure it was up to him now – and that thought alone was frightening enough to make him want to run screaming from the building. Tony Stark – in charge of Steve Rogers’ reintroduction to the modern world. How could _that_ possibly go wrong?

Steve almost broke one of his crayons. He looked up sharply. “Huh?”

“What did you want on your sandwich, Steve?” Tony repeated, propping open the fridge door. He wondered what he had left sandwich-wise. The last time he had been up here for a meal was a few days ago, but the cleaning staff had probably restocked by now. He heard Steve’s stool squeak and turned, about to ask him for a third time what he wanted on his sandwich.

Steve teetered on his stool, his arms shaking; Tony had to _dive_ around the island to make sure Steve didn’t crack his head on the countertop as the kid caught a glimpse of all the food inside the fridge. Well that certainly hadn’t been the reaction he had been expecting. “Whoa there little guy,” Tony said, scooping Steve up. He carried him around the island and set him down on the floor in front of the fridge. “There. Pick out what you want, alright?”

Steve’s jaw dropped. He looked from Tony to the fridge and back, as if not sure what he was being asked to do.

Tony smiled and turned back to the bread. It was a good thing he had always kept a supply of peanut butter, nutella and jam in his kitchen at all times; quick food was the best kind of food. Pepper always gave him shit for never eating a sit down meal at home if he could help it; keeping a supply of breakfast food around at all times had been the best compromise he had ever made with her. He had a bunch of eggs in the fridge too, if he remembered right. He wondered if Steve would want a hard boiled one; the little guy looked like he could use all the protein he could get.

“Is this ok?” Steve tugged on Tony’s pant leg.

Tony turned and spotted the jar of peanut butter in Steve’s hand. “Yep, that looks fine to me. You want some jam to go with that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, looking back at the fridge with trepidation. “Ma only lets us have one at a time. And I don’t recognize anything else in there.”

Tony stooped down and took the peanut butter from Steve, setting it on the counter. “Do you have any preferences? Is there any kind of fruit you really like?”

Steve shook his head.

“How about strawberry?” Tony plucked a strawberry confiture jar from the door-shelf, holding it out to Steve; he had the stuff shipped in weekly from a small town in France. Sure, it cost him a small fortune, but he liked it. Hell, he had even sat there eating it clean out of the jar sometimes when the mood struck him; that strawberry confiture had gotten him through quite a few bad break ups over the years.

Steve read the label, his little face scrunched up as he tried to figure out what Tony had just handed him. He looked up at Tony, confused. “It says confiture on it. That’s not jam,” he said, pursing his lips.

Tony smiled. “Confiture is a type of jam. They make it differently – it’s made out of whole fruit, not just the juice and fruit bits.”

“Oh,” Steve murmured. “That sounds expensive.”

Tony shrugged. “It’s worth it, believe me, buddy.”

Steve offered the jar up with shaking arms.

Tony took it from him, setting it down beside the peanut butter. “You want help getting back onto your stool?”

“No,” Steve said, shaking his head, “I can do it.” He shuffled over to the stool and started climbing it, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he wedged his foot against the foot bars on the island; Tony watched him, amused by the determined look on Steve’s face. The kid looked like he was trying to scale Everest for christ’s sake.

“You ok over there?” Tony asked, turning back to the sandwiches. They weren’t going to make themselves after all. He unscrewed the lid on the peanut butter and started slathering it across the bread, giving everything a healthy coat of sugary, peanuty, goodness. “Hey, you want a boiled egg to go with this?”

Steve didn’t answer.

Tony turned in time to watch Steve slip backwards off his stool; he dropped the peanut butter and butter knife and bolted, sliding across the floor in time to cushion Steve’s fall with his lap. Steve’s face went bright red; he cringed when Tony stood up, sullenly glaring down at the stool from his perch in Tony’s arms.

“I almost did it,” Steve muttered.

“Yeah, well,” Tony grunted, “There’s nothing shameful in asking for help.”

“I’m not a baby,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tony carried Steve around the island, setting him down on the counter beside the sandwiches. He let out a sigh, unscrewing the lid on the jar of Strawberry confiture. “I know you’re not a baby,” he said, spooning jam onto their sandwiches, “but you need to be careful.”

“I _am_ careful,” Steve said. He looked down at his lap, hunched over, and started crying. It wasn’t a little sob fest either – it was a full on snot-dripping-down-your-face-tears-streaming event, one Tony hadn’t seen in _years_ – not since it had been _him_ doing the crying.

It was strange. Tony didn’t have much experience dealing with children, but he knew what to do; he set his spoon of jam down and wrapped his arms around Steve, hugging him close. “I know, honey. You tried really hard. Maybe stools just aren’t your thing?” He rubbed circles on Steve’s back, forcing himself not to wince when he felt Steve’s ribs and spine through the thick shirt the kid was wearing. He was definitely going to fatten Steve up somehow. There was no way Steve should be this tiny – at least not in this day and age.

Steve hiccoughed and buried his face in Tony’s shirt, his fingers digging into the fabric. “I want my Ma,” he cried, trembling in Tony’s grasp.

“I know, honey,” Tony said, hugging Steve tighter. “But she’s not here. She left you with us, remember? She has important work to do.”

“When’s she coming back?” Steve sniffled.

Tony felt awful lying to Steve, but what else was he supposed to do? Was he going to break the kid’s heart and tell him that his mom was dead? That he had grown up in a goddamned orphanage after she had died? He knew Steve’s file well enough to know the orphanage hadn’t been the best place for a kid like Steve; Steve had never talked about it with him, but he always got a funny look on his face when someone brought it up, which was never a good sign. Tony knew better than to ask what that was about. So he lied. He gritted his teeth and he _lied_ , knowing full well that Steve probably wouldn’t believe a word of it. “I don’t know, Steve. I think she’s going to be gone for at least a few months. It was the best job she could get, and she didn’t want to say no to the guy who offered it to her.”

“Is she ok?” Steve tugged at Tony’s shirt, looking up at him. His eyes were red-rimmed and watery, his pale cheeks pink from sobbing.

“She’s ok,” Tony said, ruffling Steve’s hair. “She made sure we would take care of you, remember? We’re the Avengers – if she was in trouble, we would be out there helping her.”

“Ok,” Steve said, nodding slowly. He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve, lowering his gaze.

“Let’s eat something, ok?” Tony lifted Steve up, holding him against his hip again; he cleaned up the jam and peanut butter, sticking the jars back in the fridge before retrieving their sandwiches. Steve hung against him, his head resting on Tony’s shoulder, still sniffling a little. Tony walked them over to the coffee table, figuring it would be the best place for a kid with short legs to eat. After all, it was the perfect height. Unfortunately, his choice of venue didn’t work out the way he expected. Steve gaped at the windows as he got his first view of the city. He started trembling in Tony’s grasp. His sobs came out short and quick; he buried his face in Tony’s shoulder, tears streaming down his face all over again.

“It’s ok,” Tony said quickly, setting their food down on the coffee table. He wished he had thought about blacking the windows out earlier; the kid was probably traumatized now. _Fantastic_. “Jarvis, can you dim the glass a bit?” The glass gleamed for a moment and then went grey, blurring the view until Tony could only make out the rough outline of the city below. He sat down, feeling just as lost as Steve. He hadn’t thought it would be this bad. Steve had never really said anything about the city being, well, _scary_. It had changed a lot over the years, but Tony hadn’t thought it had changed so dramatically – at least not _this_ dramatically. Well, ok, he knew it was fairly dramatic considering all the skyscrapers and glass everywhere, but it wasn’t like they were in Tokyo or someplace with neon lights and advertising everywhere. He held Steve until he was ready to pull away, wishing he could tone the city down for the little guy.

Steve sniffled loudly, looking around the room. He glowered at the tinted glass and turned to Tony, gnawing on his lower lip. “Was that _real_?”

“It’s real,” Tony said, patting Steve on the back again when he started hiccoughing. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have let you see it that way.”

Steve shrugged, his attention drawn to the sandwich sitting in front of him. “It’s alright.”

Tony was tempted to call Steve on the lie; he turned to his own sandwich instead, picking up one of the quarters, glad that he had at least had the forethought to cut the damn thing up into smaller pieces. He was about to take a bite when Steve clasped his hands in front of him and started muttering something, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Oh, Tony realized with a start, Steve was praying. He watched, wondering if he should put his own sandwich back; his parents had never bothered with this kind of thing when he had been growing up. Howard had complained that it was a waste of time – that as men of science they should raise their children to know better than to believe in an invisible being ruling the world. That was probably one of the few things that had come out of Howard’s mouth that Tony had agreed with.

Steve, however, had not had Howard Stark raising him. He continued to mumble away, his words lost amidst sniffles. He paused when he was done, looking up with one eye cracked open. “Aren’t you going to pray too?”

Tony pursed his lips. Was this something he wanted to do? Did he want to keep lying to the kid?

“You don’t have to say the words out loud,” Steve said, looking back down at his plate. “He can hear you anywhere.”

“That’s… uh…,” Tony looked down at his own plate, contemplating making a break for the elevator. “That’s great, kid.”

“Do you not… believe?” Steve asked. There wasn’t any judgement in his voice. That was probably a first.

Tony shook his head. “No. I don’t believe in god.”

“Why?”

“Because I believe in proof – in people, and the future. I guess I just don’t like the idea of people not being responsible for their actions.” Tony grabbed a piece of sandwich and stuffed it in his mouth, hoping the peanut butter would keep him from running his mouth.

Steve picked up his own sandwich, slowly nibbling at the first quarter. “Ma says people are allowed to believe in lots of things and that we’re not supposed to judge them. That’s what God is supposed to do.”

“Seems fair,” Tony said through a mouthful of peanut butter.

Steve chewed carefully around the outside of the sandwich before going in for the middle bit; he looked up at Tony, his mouth hanging slightly open. “Wow, this is really good.”

“Yep,”

“Do you eat this all the time?”

“Sometimes,” Tony shrugged, demolishing another quarter of his sandwich. “What do you normally eat for lunch?”

Steve finished his first quarter, and reached tentatively for his second. “Sometimes we have potatoes or cabbage. Sometimes we have bread and lard. Ma doesn’t have a lot of time to cook most of the time. She works a lot because I get sick.” He hung his head, leaving the sandwich quarter in his hand untouched. “I wish I didn’t get sick all the time. I hate the hospital – and I hate that Ma has to pay so much for it.”

Tony wished he could tell Steve that things were different now, that thing were easier for working class families, but that would be yet another lie; most of the people under the poverty line were still unable to afford proper health care – hell, some of those _over_ the line couldn’t afford it either. He gave money to the Maria Stark Foundation every year for that very reason. “Yeah, hospitals are expensive,” Tony said, licking strawberry confiture off of his fingers, “But I’m sure she doesn’t mind it. She loves you a lot, right?”

Steve nodded, nibbling at his sandwich quarter.

“Then she’s probably more worried about you than the money,” Tony said. He polished off the last of his sandwich and leaned back, making himself comfortable as Steve continued to eat his at a snail’s pace. He was fairly certain the sandwich was going to start molding over by the time Steve got to his third quarter.

Steve seemed to notice Tony’s gaze. He went very still, staring back at Tony with a weird look on his face; it was a little scary, actually, how quickly the change happened. He was a sweet little boy one minute and then it was like a switch had been flipped. It almost looked a little bit like Steve was going to bite him if he reached for his food. “What?” Steve said, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“I didn’t say anything, kiddo,” Tony said. He yawned, rubbing his eyes; he always had been bad at staying awake after he had lunch usually he dropped off right after, dozing on whatever he was near, which was why Pepper never scheduled after-lunch meetings.

“Did… are you hungry still?” Steve asked.

Tony opened one eye. “No, that’s alright, Steve,” he murmured. “You go ahead and eat. If I get hungry I’ll just make something else. There’s plenty to eat here.”

The change in Steve was dramatic; he slumped as he started eating his sandwich again, moving from the crusts to the soft part of the bread quicker this time. He stared down at his hand when he had reached the largest layer of peanut butter. “They take my food sometimes when they’re still hungry,” he said, taking a tiny bite.

Tony turned slowly, afraid to move too fast. His first impulse was to speak, to ask the names of the little bastards that had been swiping Steve’s food, but he remained silent, wanting to hear what Steve had to say; the bastards were dead after all – and there was nothing he could do to punish them for what they had done.

“I don’t like it when they take my food. I hit Joey last time and hurt my hand – was that wrong?” Steve asked, looking up from his food.

“No. I don’t think that was wrong. I would have slugged him too.”

Steve smiled brightly. “That’s what Ma said!”

Tony smiled back.

“Sounds like your mom is a smart cookie.”

Steve nodded, biting into his sandwich. “I don’t like bullies.”

“Same here,”

“Bucky gives me his food sometimes,” Steve said, licking a chunk of strawberry off of his thumb. “He’s my best friend. He and I go to the library together, although he doesn’t really like reading that much. I like books though – I read a lot because when I’m sick Ma doesn’t let me go outside. Do you think I could visit him?”

Tony sighed. He had been dreading this question all morning. “Bucky’s not in the country right now kiddo,” he said, picking his words carefully. After all, how were you supposed to explain to a little kid that their best friend was dead? “His parents got a job overseas.”

Steve looked crushed. He looked down at his plate. “Oh.”

Tony swallowed hard. God, why was he the one having to answer all the tough questions? It was bad enough adult-Steve hated him, but this was going to make mini-Steve hate him too. Here he was, systematically stripping the kid of hope one person at a time; Steve didn’t deserve it, but what was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to tell the kid flat out that his friends and family were dead? Was he _supposed_ to sit the kid down, look him in the eye and tell him that he was years out of time?

“Do you think his parents would mind if I wrote to him?” Steve sounded so heartbreakingly honest, Tony wanted to hug him again.

“Sure,” Tony said with a soft smile. “I’m sure he’d like to get letters. I don’t know if he’ll be able to write back quickly though.”

“That’s ok,” Steve said, wiggling his sticky fingers. “I’m used to waiting. It won’t be that bad.” He stood up, crossing his legs a little.

Tony recognized the move. “Bathroom?” he asked, chuckling.

Steve nodded rapidly. “Can you come with me?”

“Uh… sure.” Tony made his way to the bathroom with Steve trailing behind him, trying not to laugh at the way Steve was moving at triple speed. “You know, you could have said you had to go earlier.”

“I don’t like the bathroom Thor showed me,” Steve said, his brow furrowed in concentration. “It was too big.”

“Well, I’m going to have to warn you then,” Tony said, pushing the bathroom door open, “this one’s pretty big too, kid.”

Steve skidded to a halt, bumping into the back of Tony’s thigh. He peered around him into the bathroom, sucking in a sharp breath. Tony’s bathroom wasn’t that big – at least for him. Sure, there was a separate bathtub slash hot tub and a shower, but they were only big enough for two people or so – it wasn’t like he had installed them thinking about having a wet and wacky _orgy_ in here. Everything was a mixture of silver and white marble tile; it was all custom made, designed to his exact specifications. He didn’t have anything weird in here – it was all pretty standard, really, although judging by the look on Steve’s face it was the most terrifying place on earth.

Steve’s knees knocked together, his hands dropping to the crotch of his pants. “I changed my mind.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I highly doubt that,” he chuckled. He walked into the bathroom and mimed for Steve to follow him, waiting patiently while Steve hovered in the doorway. “Come on. It won’t bite.”

Steve shuffled into the bathroom; Tony moved backwards, leading Steve to the toilet.

“Here,” Tony said, lifting up the toilet lid. “I’m sure you recognize this.”

Steve nodded. He darted forwards, slipping around Tony and tugged his pants down, fear forgotten, throwing himself onto the toilet. Tony politely remained facing the other direction, drumming his fingers on his arm while Steve did his business.

The toilet flushed.

Tony walked up to the sink and turned the tap on, checking the water temperature while Steve wiggled his way back into his pants. “Alright, so the first thing you need to know about the bathrooms here in the tower is that nothing’s going to hurt you, alright?”

Steve hovered at Tony’s side, looking up at the sink; he was a few inches too short to reach the counter, and he knew it. He pursed his lips, going up on the tips of his toes to try to get at the water. Tony let him struggle for a bit, waiting until he got the idea that he wasn’t going to get at it without help; he bent down and scooped Steve up, setting him down on the counter so that he could squirt some soap onto his hands. Steve played with the foamy soap, wiping it around his fingers.

“This stuff’s great,” Steve said. He brought his soapy hands up to his nose and gave them a sniff. He sneezed, spraying Tony with bubbles.

“It’s much better than a bar of soap, right?” Tony said, leaning his hip against the counter. He wiped a blob of bubbles off of his neck, chuckling. He watched as Steve rinsed his hands off, glad that the kid was taking to it so easily. He had been a little worried there for a second. Bathrooms had been around for ages, but ones like this hadn’t exactly been all that common. Giant showers were kind of a big deal, all things considered; most people had just had a tub and a shower head up above – if that. They had used shower curtains on a metal rod, not glass doors to keep the water in; a lot had changed since Steve’s time.

Tony plucked a fuzzy blue hand towel from the bar behind him and handed it over to Steve. “Here you go.”

Steve patted his hands dry. “Does everyone use this bathroom?”

“Nope,” Tony said, lifting Steve up from the counter and setting him down. “This floor’s all mine.”

“Wow! That’s really cool!”

“It’s alright,” Tony said with a shrug.

“You live up here alone?”

“Most of the time. Sometimes people come to stay with me.”

“Do you have a lot of friends?”

“I have a few,” Tony said, leading Steve out of the bathroom. “You’ve met Jarvis, right?”

Steve nodded, following Tony back to the living room. “The scary lady told me about him. He lives in the ceiling, right?” He hopped up onto the couch and curled up in the corner, nestled against the pillows and the armrest.

“Well, I guess you could say that. He’s an AI – do you know what that means?” Tony sat down beside Steve, sitting cross legged on the couch so that he could face him without getting a crick in his neck.

“What’s an AI?”

“It stands for Artificial Intelligence. It’s something people make to mimic humans – designed by numbers and equations. Did someone explain computers to you?”

“No,” Steve said, shaking his head. “It’s like math, right? Ma bought me an abacus once, but the beads fell off when Daniel was playing with it. Are computers like an abacus?”

Tony smiled. “It’s like math, yeah, although it’s a lot more complicated than an abacus. Computers are things that people use for lots of different things. They started out as a way of making calculations easier, so that people could keep track of things – like, say when you go to work. You put in variables – any kind of numbers, like a wage, and then you can use it to count to see how much a person made every hour. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. I’ve read Buck Rogers before. He has machines that do stuff like that all the time. What else do computers do? You said they do different things. Can they read your mind?” Steve asked excitedly. “Can they walk around? Do they help people?”

“Well, they’re not exactly mind readers, although Jarvis is sentient for the most part. And yes, they can help, but most of them don’t go walking around – at least not ones as smart as Jarvis. I could build him a body if he wanted one, but I don’t think he likes that idea very much,” Tony said.

“Why?”

“I think he likes being omnipotent,” Tony said with a chuckle.

“Omnipo..” Steve pursed his lips.

“Omnipotent. It means all seeing – all powerful.”

“Oh. Do all AI’s do that?”

“Nope. Jarvis is the only one that smart. I built him myself.”

Steve looked star struck. “ _Really_?”

“Really, really,”

“What else can computers do?”

“You can read book on them if you want to – you can get entire libraries in one computer. You can listen to music, watch movies – play games.” He grinned when Steve’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “They’re really easy to use – don’t worry,” he said, patting Steve on the head, “I’ll teach you how to use one. I’ll even get you a tablet of your own.”

“Sir?” Jarvis’s voice made Steve jump a foot and a half into the air. The kid whirled around wild-eyed, looking for the source of the sound and then scooted across the couch towards Tony, throwing himself into Tony’s lap.

“It’s ok, Steve,” Tony said, smoothing down Steve’s hair as the boy trembled in his lap. “That’s just Jarvis, remember? We were just talking about him.”

Steve looked up sheepishly. “I forgot. Sorry.”

“That’s ok. Jarvis doesn’t mind – do you Jarvis?”

“No sir. It’s nice to meet you Master Rogers. I’m sorry to interrupt, but Ms. Potts is on the line and she is demanding to speak with you. Apparently you have missed your flight,” Jarvis said.

“My flight?” Tony frowned. “What flight? Did I have a flight?”

“Ms. Potts has informed me that she reminded you of your flight during your earlier conversation,” Jarvis said. “I believe she told you to sleep on the plane. I’m paraphrasing, of course. Her words were much more explicit than that.”

Tony groaned. “Oh shit.” He struggled upright, scooping Steve up. “Shit, shit, shit – don’t repeat that word.”

“I already know the word shit,” Steve grumbled, dangling in Tony’s arms. “What are you doing?”

Tony skidded across the floor towards the elevator, jamming his finger into the call button. “I’m taking _you_ downstairs so that _I_ can rush back up here, pack and get to my private plane before Pepper finds me and skins me alive.”

“Would she do that?” Steve asked, hanging upside down in Tony’s grasp.

“No, she wouldn’t _really_ skin me alive – but she’ll throw paperwork at me until I die from sore fingers,” Tony sighed. He got off at Steve’s floor and handed the now giggling boy to Thor. “Take this.”

Thor chuckled and hoisted Steve up onto his shoulder. “I see my predictions were correct,” he said, ruffling Steve’s hair.

“Yep,” Tony said, stepping back into the elevator.

“Tony?” Steve called out, sounding confused.

Tony stepped out of the elevator again. He flattened Steve’s hair down and gave his cheek a pinch. “I’ve got to run. I won’t be back for a week – but if you need to talk to me, all you need to do is ask Jarvis, alright? He’ll connect you to me whenever you want.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, tugging at Tony’s sleeve. “Ma says I shouldn’t bother people when they’re working.”

“Yeah, buddy,” Tony said, giving Steve’s nose a gentle prod. “I’m sure. Call me whenever you want. Behave yourself.”

“I will,” Steve said. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to Japan,” Tony said, stepping inside the elevator. “I’m supposed to be checking out the plant I own there.” He jabbed the button for the penthouse, calling out as the doors closed, “Wish me luck!”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony returns from his trip and helps plan for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if there's any weirdness in here. Hopefully it's all good :)  
> Thanks for all the awesome feedback! : ) I'm glad everyone seems to be liking it!

True to his word, Steve called Tony the very next day to check in. Tony was surprised how much the little guy seemed to absolutely _need_ to talk to him; Steve would have been on the phone every damned _hour_ if Clint had let him. Tony reminded himself to make Clint some nice new arrows as a thank you for keeping Steve occupied while he was gone. He _wanted_ to be annoyed by the constant phone calls, he really did, but there was just something so sweet about someone actually waiting to see him get home.

By the next day, he was exhausted. The work itself was so tedious, he couldn’t even leave the factory during the day for lunch; he attended meetings, scoured workrooms and pretty much spent his free time quizzing staff to make sure they knew every last thing they needed to know about clean energy. Everything had to be checked over three times – not because he didn’t trust the workers, but because he needed to make sure _his_ data was correct. Things were always a little off the first time you opened a plant, and considering this was the ninth he had opened this year alone, he knew what would happen if he didn’t do his due diligence.

He got back to his hotel room at just after midnight, ready to pass out and hungry as hell. He collapsed onto his bed hoping for a good night’s sleep, telling his whining stomach that he would feed it later.

His tablet started beeping the moment he started drifting off – just his luck.

Tony sighed. He reached blindly for his tablet and found it in the darkened room, propping it up on his pillow so that he didn’t need to get up to see it. “Jarvis? What’s up?”

“Master Rogers requests that you answer the phone,” Jarvis said through the tablet. “I have informed him of the time, but I’m afraid he is too excited to pay attention.”

“Great,” Tony groaned. “Put him on.”

Steve’s face appeared on the screen; he was sitting too close to the tablet, so all Tony could _really_ see was his left eye and part of his cheek. Tony chuckled, running his fingers through his tangled hair. “Hey Steve,” he said with a yawn, his eyes barely open, “What’s up, buddy?”

“Tony?”

“You’re going to need to pull the tablet back a bit. All I can see is your eye. It’s a very _nice_ eye, but I’d like to see _you_.”

“Oh,” Steve mumbled. He moved the camera, listening to Jarvis’ instructions and then positioned it properly, looking a little embarrassed. “Sorry. I forgot.”

“It’s ok,” Tony said. “How was your day?”

“We got to watch movies in colour!” Steve said, grinning from ear to ear. “Clint showed me one in 3D too – and we ate ice cream for breakfast.”

“You had ice cream for breakfast?” Tony leaned his face against his hand. “I hope you’re going to eat something healthier for lunch. Sheesh… when did I get to be the voice of reason?”

“Ms. Natasha said we were going to have hotdogs and potato salad,” Steve said. “She says we can go walk in the park later if I’m good.”

“That sounds like fun,”

“Yeah! She helped me find books in your library. You have a lot of books. Did you know that?” Steve pulled a book out from underneath him, holding it up so that Tony could see. It was _The Velveteen Rabbit_ , one of Tony’s childhood favourites. This particular copy had ended up in the Tower’s library after Rhodey had given it to him last Christmas.

“That’s a good book you’ve got there. What did you think of it?” Tony asked.

“I like it. I’ve read it already, but it was even _better_ this time,” Steve said, putting the book down. “Who’s Rhodey? It says ‘To Tony from Rhodey’ on the first page.”

“Rhodey is my friend James Rhodes. He gave that to me for Christmas.”

“OH, ok. Did _he_ like the story?”

“Yeah,” Tony said with a yawn. He toed his shoes off when he realized that they were still on; the cleaning lady was going to murder him. “Yeah, he really liked it. He got me a copy of _The Wind In The Willows_ too – he thought it was funny.”

“I’ve read that one,” Steve said, “Clint says I should ask you to read me something called Redwall when you come back.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” Tony chuckled, wrestling off his tie.

“He bought all the books at the store today,” Steve said, looking around as if this was some big secret he wasn’t supposed to be sharing. “It cost him two hundred and fifty dollars!”

“Yeah,” Tony said with a lethargic nod, “there are twenty two books in that series, kiddo. I’m not surprised.”

“Ma doesn’t even make that much in a _year_ ,” Steve murmured, fear blossoming in his eyes. “How’s he going to pay it off? I don’t think he has a job.”

“It’s ok,” Tony said, rubbing his eyes. “He works as an Avenger, and we make a lot more money than that now. Besides, he probably used that black plastic card I gave him, right?”

Steve nodded solemnly.

“Then it’s fine. I’m apparently footing the bill for it.”

“You are?” Steve looked sad.

“Steve, honey – you’re _adorable_ , really – it’s ok. I’m rich, remember? I can buy you an island and it wouldn’t cause me any problems.”

“You could?” Steve sounded skeptical. He pursed his lips, playing with the books in his lap.

“I could,” Tony said with a yawn. “I really could. Seriously, don’t worry about it, alright? My bank account will be just fine. No one’s going to end up on the street, I promise.”

“Tony?” Steve hesitated, looking down at something off camera. “What year is this?”

Tony wished he had fallen asleep. “The year?” he asked, his throat going dry. Oh god. Why hadn’t they just explained everything when they had had the chance?

“Ms. Natasha said I need to wait until you come home before we talk about it,” Steve said, still looking down. “But I don’t understand.”

“I wish we could talk about it right now,” Tony said with a sigh, scrubbing his hand over his doughnut-glaze sticky beard, “but if Natasha says we’ll talk about it when I’m back, then I think we’ll have to wait. Are you ok with that?”

“I guess,”

“Are you scared?”

“A little,”

“It’ll be alright,” Tony said. He wished he could reach through the tablet and wrap his arms around the kid; _he_ could use a hug, now that he thought about it. No – scratch that, he could use a couple of thousand hugs. Shit, they were going to have to tell the kid about _Bucky_ – about his Ma – about _everything_ , weren’t they? How the hell else were they going to explain the whole it’s 2013 thing? Why had he lied? Why hadn’t he just kept his mouth shut?

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Something happened to my Ma and Bucky, didn’t it…?”

Tony looked down at the bedspread. “Steve…”

“They’re not coming back for me, are they,” Steve whispered.

“We can’t talk about this right now, remember?”

“Ok,” Steve said, gnawing on his lower lip. He looked up, his eyes shiny and watery. “I know I can’t ask, but _you’re_ going to come back, right?”

“Of _course_ I am.” Tony forced himself to sit up. He lifted the tablet, holding it at shoulder level, giving Steve his most solemn smile. “I’ll be back in a week – I’m serious about that. I’m not staying a day longer, ok? If they want me to stay longer I’ll tell them to go to hell.”

“Do you promise?” Steve asked, his lower lip trembling.

“I promise, sweetheart,” Tony said. “I promise. I will be back there in a week, and then we’ll talk about everything.”

“Ok.”

“Steve – it’s time for lunch!” Tony could hear Clint’s voice as clear as day even though they were the opposite sides of the world. He watched Steve swallow down his tears, putting on a brave face, and tried to keep from frowning. Steve smiled at Clint, clearly well versed in pretending to be happy; Clint didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss.

Clint stuck his face in front of the camera instead of looking at Steve, squinting at Tony. “Dude,” Clint said, smirking at Tony, “You look like _shit_.”

“Well, you try working a thirteen hour day,” Tony grumbled, moving his hand to give Clint the finger. He froze, realizing what he was doing and settled for giving Clint the stink eye instead. “I’m assuming you’ve been behaving yourself, Barton.”

“Oh _yeah_ ,” Clint said, nodding along, all faux-innocence and sweet smiles. He scooped the tablet up, carrying it away; Tony could hear Steve’s ‘ _hey_!’, but couldn’t see him anymore. “So how are things going in the salt mines? Are you actually working, or are you there to buy yourself another vending machine?”

“I’m working,” Tony grunted. “I _was_ working – I would like to not be awake right now though. And the vending machine thing happened _once_. I don’t know why you keep bringing it up.”

“It sold _panties_ , Stark. How can I _not_ continue to bring it up?”

“The panties were discretely removed after I realized they were in there. It came pre-stocked! How the hell was I supposed to know they were there?”

“Uh, huh.”

“Yeah, well, Natasha thought it was funny,” Tony grumbled.

“She _smiled_ – that did not mean she liked it,” Clint chuckled. “I still have my pair by the way.”

“You’re kidding. You bought a pair?”

“I couldn’t resist! They had little hearts all over them,” Clint said with a shrug. “They’re very comfy.”

“Oh dear god,” Tony groaned, burying his face in his blankets. “I did _not_ need to know that.”

“Yes you did.”

“No, I didn’t,”

“Well, you know now. Deal with it, Stark.”

“Look, as much as I enjoy corrupting the youth of today, can I talk to you in private?”

Clint looked down, off screen. “Hey, buddy – take a hike. Go get yourself some hotdogs.”

“That’s rude!” Steve said, his voice muffled.

“I know it’s rude. I’m a rude guy. Why are you trying to climb my leg?”

“Because I want to talk to _Tony_ ,” Steve grumbled.

“I need to talk to Tony alone though – so scram. Go. Hotdogs – calling your name. They’re good – I swear, I didn’t touch them or anything. Scouts honor.”

“ _You’re_ not a scout,” Steve said with a huff. “Scouts don’t _lie_.”

“How do you know? Are you a scout?”

“No.”

“Well, then you can’t prove they don’t lie. If you don’t want any hotdogs, I can just tell Thor to eat them all. I’m sure he’ll be happy to do it.”

“ _No_! I’ll go!”

Tony winced. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” Clint looked over his shoulder. “Alright, we’re good. He’s gone. _Man_ , that kid moves fast when you mention food.”

“Don’t tell him someone’s going to eat all the food,” Tony muttered. “He’ll think you’re serious.”

“You’re kidding,” Clint said, raising an eyebrow.

“Sadly, no, I am not. His ‘friends’ used to steal his food from him.”

Clint stared into the camera, his eyes almost comically wide. “You’re _fucking_ with me.”

“No, I’m not,” Tony sighed. “I wish I was.”

“ _Names_ – I want names, Stark. Those fuckers are going down,” Clint growled, looking absolutely murderous.

“I don’t _have_ names, Clint – but think of it this way. They’re probably all in an old folks home if they’re still alive, so don’t worry about it – it can’t get much worse than _that_. Believe me, I thought about going after them too, but there’s no point in harassing the elderly.” Tony tapped his tablet, locking their channel from other devices in the Tower on the off chance that Steve tried to get back in on their conversation. “Look, we have a big problem.”

Clint sighed. He sat down on something, propping the tablet up so that he didn’t have to hold it anymore. “What happened?”

“Steve asked me what year it is.”

“Oh jesus – _already_?” Clint groaned. “I thought we had a few more weeks before he figured that out. He’s _seven_ – how the hell did he realize it wasn’t the right year? He should be drinking his weight in milk and stuffing himself with Oreos, not planning his week on a _calendar_.”

“He claims he went to the bookstore with a certain _archer_ , who spent a crap-ton of money on a bunch of really awesome books for me to read to him – one thing lead to another and he asked if you had put yourself into debt. I, stupidly, explained that in this day and age, two hundred and something dollars isn’t much.”

“Natasha’s not going to be happy,”

“Yeah, well, when is she ever happy about the things I do? It’s not like I can turn back time. What are we supposed to do about it? We can’t wipe the year off _everything_ on the planet, and while I’d like to think we could survive with a seven year old trapped inside the Tower for the unforeseeable future, I don’t really think that’s going to be an option for long,”

“Hey, we could _totally_ make it work. Jarvis could lock all the doors – he’d be _fine_. He lived indoors for most of his life already anyway,” Clint snorted. “How would he know the difference?”

“Yeah, well he’s not bed ridden anymore, so I highly doubt he’s going to be so willing to stick around. He’ll go stir-crazy if we try to keep him cooped up on his floor,” Tony said, shaking his head. “Look, can you talk with Natasha and the guys about it? I don’t know what the hell to say, and I’m exhausted.”

“Alright, alright,” Clint grumbled. “Jesus – why’s he so damned smart?”

“I guess Ma Rogers didn’t believe in raising dumb children,” Tony yawned. “Alright. I’ll talk to you tomorrow or something. I’m pooped.”

“Fantastic. Any advice on what not to say to the little guy in the meantime?” Clint asked.

“Well, for starters, try to avoid talking about his Ma and Bucky not being around – maybe tell him they’re incommunicado or some damn thing – can we make them spies? Do you think he’d believe that?”

“Well, he’s seven… He might, if I sell it right.”

“I may have made the mistake of hinting to the kid that they weren’t coming back for him…” Tony grimaced. “Why couldn’t I have just said they were in Boca Raton cleaning old people?”

“Well,” Clint sighed, “that’s a major fuck up alright. Nice going, Stark.”

“Thank you. Rub it in a bit more why don’t you?”

“Oh, I will,” Clint grumbled, flapping a hand at the camera. “Alright – go get your _beauty_ sleep. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,”

“You’re welcome. You can do me a favor, if you want,”

“Oh, here it comes. What do you need?”

“I’ll email you a list.”

“Alright. Go – email it. I’m going to sleep.” Tony hung up before Clint could say anything else. He flipped the tablet upside down and crawled under the covers, not bothering to undress properly. He heard the tablet chime, signaling he had received a new email and groaned, squeezing his eye shut, praying for sleep to take him.

 

 

The week went by in a blur of coffee, coding and machine inspections; by the time Tony managed to get back to his private airstrip, he was fairly certain he was going to black out from his latest wicked bout of insomnia. He thanked the woman who had done his shopping for him – and boy was he glad he had invested the money in her, because he hadn’t been able to sneak away to do _any_ shopping on his own – and boarded his plane. There was a massive bag of stuff from Akihabara sitting on the coffee table waiting for him; most of the stuff in it was for Clint, but a few choice items were for Steve.

Tony opened the bag as they took off, checking everything over. There, nestled amidst Clint’s pile of manga, body pillows and figurines was the crown jewel of his shopping spree – a stuffed sesame seed bagel pillow; it was beautiful, a replica worthy of admiration. He plucked the pillow from the bag and turned it over in his hands. Everything was perfect; every seam was immaculate. Each sesame seed was made from a smooth polyester blend fabric, filled with a little bit of fluff to make it stand out. The bagel was large enough to use as an actual pillow rather than just as a novelty one, and it even came with its very own removable outer shell for easier washing. The fabric was mostly cream coloured – not exactly the _best_ colour for a little kid, but he had a feeling that a neat and tidy little kid like Steve would take good care of it and keep it dirt free. Tony put the pillow away and leaned back against in his seat, letting his eyes close. He couldn’t wait to get home.

 

“Tony!”

Tony jerked awake. He looked around and managed to catch a glimpse of blonde hair before Steve hurled himself through the air, and landed on top of him with an audible oomph. He ruffled Steve’s hair, grinning as the kid hung off his neck like a limpet. “Hey buddy! What are you doing here?”

“I asked Ms. Potts if I could go with her when she came to get you,” Steve said, his face still buried in Tony’s neck.

“Is that so?” Tony chuckled. He didn’t think he was ever going to get over the idea of Steve raring to see him.

“There you are!” Pepper hurried towards them, her hair plastered to her head. “I thought I’d lost you!” She wiped frantically at her dripping wet suit, trying to sop up some of the water with a napkin. “He moves fast.”

“That he does,” Tony said, standing and hoisting Steve up in his arms. He groaned as his back protested the move and nearly went backwards into his seat again. “Good god – what have they been feeding you?”

“You shouldn’t say god’s name in vain,” Steve said, still smiling.

“Oh, right – yeah. Ok. Uh… hm. What’s a better way to say it then? Good gravy? Is that a thing? I think it’s a thing – I distinctly remember hearing it once. Maybe.”

Steve giggled.

“Alright – Good gravy it is. _Good gravy_ ,” Tony said, tucking Steve against him, “what have they been feeding you? You’re like ten pounds heavier than you were the last time I saw you.”

“Clint gives me Oreos,” Steve said, looking to Pepper as if she was hearing some kind of lurid tale. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow. “I see,” she said, sweeping forwards. She plucked Steve from Tony’s arms and set him down on the floor beside Tony’s bags. “No more jumping on Tony. He’s old and his back is bad.”

“It is not,” Tony grumbled, rubbing his back. “It’s just not used to lugging around Mini-Steves all the time.”

Pepper smiled. She bent down and smoothed Steve’s hair so that it wasn’t stick up all over the place. “Can you help me carry one of these bags?” she said. “We need to get going – Tony has a meeting to get to, and he’s late again.”

“I am?” Tony scowled. “How am I late? I’ve been here a whole ten minutes.”

“It’s an Avengers meeting,” Pepper said softly, eyeing Steve, who was lifting up the smallest of Tony’s bags. “Natasha called it a few minutes ago while I was driving up to the airstrip. She seemed pretty nervous, actually.”

“Oh?” Tony picked up the rest of his bags, sling them over his shoulder before Steve could try to pick anything else up. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look nervous before. Can she _be_ nervous?”

“She can, and you’re not going to like the reason why,” Pepper said, leading them out of the plane. “I think it has to do with the Captain.”

Tony sighed. “When _isn’t_ it about the Captain these days?”

“True,” Pepper said, helping Steve down the flight steps. She took the bag from him after he started dragging it on the floor because it was a bit too heavy for him. “I’ll get that. Why don’t you go get the car door for me, honey?”

Steve scampered off ahead of them, running towards Pepper’s avocado-coloured Bentley.

“They had some bad news,” Pepper said once Steve was out of earshot. “Hydra and some of Steve’s other enemies found out about the spell somehow. Coulson called it in a few minutes ago. He said he’s got it under control for now, but they want to take protective measures and discuss a better plan for dealing with it. He’s recommending that Steve not be allowed out of the tower until they take care of the first ‘wave’ – whatever that means.”

“Great,” Tony said, “Pop the trunk, will you?”

“Sure,”

Tony stuffed his bags into the trunk and closed it, mindful of the action figures crammed inside, and then crawled into the back beside Steve as Pepper got into the passenger’s seat. “Hey, Happy. How’s it going?”

Happy grinned sheepishly. “It’s going. How are things with you?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary – well, aside from the whole workaholic thing eating my soul,” Tony shrugged. He watched Steve close his door and then helped the kid into his car seat, pulling the seat belt into place before tackling his own. “How’s my Tower?”

“Looks the same to me,” Happy said with a shrug, starting the car. “You want to grab lunch?”

“Burgers,” Tony said, licking his lips. “I missed burgers.”

“Alright,” Happy laughed, putting the car into drive, “burgers it is – if that’s ok with you, Pep.”

Pepper rolled her eyes, a smile creeping across her face. “Go ahead, honey – let’s go get some burgers. I’ll text Natasha and let her know where we’re going.” She pulled her phone out of her purse, humming softly. “She’s going to be mad – I’ll just blame it on Tony. I’m sure you won’t mind, right?”

“Right,” Tony snorted. He turned to Steve, lounging against the back seat. He could have dropped off to sleep right then and there. “You hungry too, buddy?”

Steve nodded rapidly. “Can we _really_ get burgers?”

“Of course we can,” Tony said, winking at Steve. “ _Pepper_ said we could. We can even get _fries_ too - or onion rings - ooh! Or _both_!”

“You and your onion rings,” Pepper laughed. She pressed her phone up to her ear as they pulled out into traffic, cocking her head to the side so she could peer back at Steve. “Natasha? Yes, this is Pepper. We’ve got Tony. We’ll be there in a bit – the boys want burgers.”

“What’s your stance on milkshakes? Yay or Nay?” Tony said, prodding Steve in the shoulder.

“Milkshakes?” Steve’s eyes widened. “We can get _milkshakes_ too?”

“Yep – my treat. What flavor do you want?”

Steve looked down at his hands and then looked up again, meeting Tony’s gaze meekly. “Vanilla?”

“No chocolate?” Tony quirked an eyebrow. “Vanilla… hm. Why am I not surprised?”

“Behave,” Pepper said, rolling her eyes. “No, not you Nat. I’m talking to Tony. Uh huh.”

“Don’t worry about it, Steve,” Tony said, smiling at Steve’s confusion. “Vanilla’s pretty good too.”

 

 

Tony made his way to the common kitchen, trying to keep awake after coming down from his milkshake-induced sugar crash. The other were already gathered around the dining room table for their meeting. Coulson was sitting beside Clint and Natasha, resting his chin in his palm, looking so exhausted it seemed like he might go head first into the table. Bruce was sitting in a chair beside him, sipping a mug of tea with a notebook open in front of him, casually scrawling down thoughts. Thor sat sprawled in a chair on the opposite side of the table from Tony with his legs spread wide, his hands resting on his knees; all of the Avengers looked ready to sleep.

Tony handed Clint his bag of goodies before the archer could throw himself over the table at him; Clint eyed the bag, gnawing on his lower lip, but didn’t reach for it even though he was clearly itching to claw his way through the paper bag to get at his gifts.

“You’re late,” Coulson said with an exasperated sigh. “Did you _really_ have to stop for burgers?”

“I really did,” Tony said, plopping himself down in a chair beside Clint. “It was a long plane ride – I needed food. Is there a problem?”

“Aside from the one you left us with?” Natasha growled. Her arms were crossed stiffly in front of her chest; her glare could have cut glass.

Tony winced. “Look,” he said, pushing his chair back a few inches so he would have room to escape if he needed to, “It wasn’t like I told him anything he hadn’t already figured out. He was the one who knew something funky was up. He talked to _you_ first.”

“He _mentioned_ it to me and I told him we would talk later. _You_ were the one who couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut,” Natasha snapped.

“Children,” Coulson cut in, scowling. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk about why we’re actually here. Blame games won’t help anything if Hydra gets their hand on the Captain. I’m assuming you’ve heard some of the details already, Stark?”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest, slumping in his seat. “Pepper _mentioned_ it to me,” he said giving Natasha a dirty look, “but as Steve was in the car with us at the time, she couldn’t say much. He’s with her right now by the way. She’s got him filing reports for her – he really seems to like it.”

Coulson smiled softly. “He always did like paperwork. I guess it’s not really that much of a surprise. Here,” he said, sliding a file across the table towards Tony.

Tony picked it up, flipping it open. He didn’t like what he saw inside; the file was filled with pictures taken directly from the Tower’s security cameras. Each photo had the same group of people in it, although they were wearing different clothing in some of the images. Tony looked up, frowning. “You’re sure they’re Hydra agents and not just our everyday whackos?”

“They’re Hydra all right. I saw the confirmation sheets myself. They appeared about the same time you left on your trip to Japan,” Coulson said, “They’ve been traveling in pairs, searching for something. At first we thought they were just looking to steal your tech as usual, but after we left a bait piece out – with Jarvis’ help, of course – we realized that they could have cared less about the tech. They were looking for Steve.”

“And there’s a reason you didn’t mention any of this until now?” Tony growled. They had known about these assholes for a week, and they hadn’t said anything? If he had known, he wouldn’t have had Happy drive them to a goddamned burger shack.

“We need you to set up contingency plans – I’m sure you understand the need for them. We couldn’t risk tipping our hand over the phone in case they were patrolling the airwaves somehow. They’ve been upgrading their equipment over the year, and it’s getting far more complicated than we predicted. We thought we had it under control until an hour ago. The men and women in those pictures are currently sitting in SHIELD cells – well or so we thought,” Coulson grumbled, tapping the tabletop, “to be honest, we have more than a _few_ sets of them in the lower levels being interrogated, and the results aren’t good. They’re LMD’s, Stark. The real ones are still out there.”

Tony groaned, rubbing at his forehead. Great. He was two hours back from a grueling marathon factory review and this was what was waiting for him? “You’re telling me Hydra has a bunch of robot clones running around out there?”

“Unfortunately, yes. We’ve had Jarvis scanning the crowd for matching signatures, and they’re multiplying,” Coulson said with a grimace. “For obvious reasons we can’t exactly EMP the downtown corridor to get rid of them.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Tony said, flipping through the file. “I’m assuming you want to take Steve somewhere else – hide him away from them. If they’ve got LMDs lurking outside, it’s not exactly safe even if the Tower does have the best security out there.”

“Yes,” Natasha growled, drumming her fingers on her arm, “Thus why we needed you here, and not out there eating burgers in a car with only Happy for protection.”

Tony sighed. “What do you want me to do? I can build you a working remote for the LMDs – make them easier to shut down – no, _correction_ , I’m _going_ to build a remote to shut them down. What _else_ do you need me to do?” He closed the file; it was useless now anyway considering he had it memorized.

“We’re going to give Steve the cover story after this meeting is over,” Clint said, his fingers inching across the table towards Tony’s bag of gifts. Coulson rapped Clint smartly across the knuckles; Clint jerked his hand back, sulking. “We’re got it all worked out already. It’s fine.”

“And what are you telling him exactly?” Tony asked, dreading the answer.

“We’re going with the spy idea you gave Clint a few days ago,” Coulson said. “Sarah Rogers has been given security clearance and is an active member of SHIELD. She was recruited through our time travel division – and yes,” Coulson sighed, shaking his head, “as implausible as it sounds, to a seven year old it will check out. I’ve had them draw up files and photographs. We had the best of the best building Sarah Roger’s life up. He won’t be able to tell the difference between truth and lie – believe me. I went through every last detail personally. We’re not going to have that baseball game fuck up again.”

“So you’re telling the kid that his mother’s a super spy on a mission for SHIELD,” Tony said carefully, shaking his head. It sounded crazy, even to him, but Coulson was right. It was plausible – to a seven year old who didn’t know shit about science and time machines.

“We had the team do some photo manipulations – it’s good work,” Natasha said, scowling. “It’s cruel, but it’s good work.”

“You’d better burn those files when Steve’s back to normal,” Tony muttered. “The last thing the guy needs to see is his mother in a bunch of fake files.”

“Agreed,” Thor said, shifting in his seat. “That would be far too cruel. The Captain is already distressed enough without having to see such things. If it were up to me, I would not let you deceive him at all, but this is a dire situation – one that requires tact and control. Steve must believe what he reads, and he must understand that he needs to continue to follow our lead.”

“The real question isn’t if he believes or not,” Bruce said, sipping his tea. He took off his glasses, setting them down on the table. “The real question is who we’re going to have deliver the lie.”

Tony stood up, pushing the file away. “Yeah, well – I think you guys can handle that much. I’m going to go get some work done.”

“Stark –”

“Look, I’m good, but I’m not _that_ good. Put your super spies to work,” Tony said, heading towards the door. “I’ve lied to the kid enough. You can do the dirty work this time.”

 

 

Tony worked as quickly as his sleep-deprived brain would let him, building a prototype for the LMD Energy Remote within a matter of hours. When it was done, he ran it through a debugging program to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and leaned back in his chair, wondering if the others had told Steve their grand lie yet. He could have asked Jarvis, but frankly, he didn’t really want to know. He rubbed his eyes, trying to ignore the ache in his lower back that was growing progressively stronger. With the remote ready for production, all he needed to do was start working on the rest of the contingency plan.

“Sir?”

“Yeah, Jarvis?”

“Captain Rogers is requesting entrance to the workshop,”

“Steve, or Captain Rogers?”

“My apologies, sir. It is Steve,”

Tony turned around on his chair, looking towards the door. Steve was standing beside the glass, his face squashed against it as he tried to get a better look at what was inside. His cheeks were an adorable shade of pink. “Let him in,” Tony said, scrubbing his hands over his beard.

Steve stepped back from the door and waited patiently for it to open before stepping cautiously inside. He moved slowly, his eyes moving from one side of the workshop to the other, cataloguing everything he saw. He froze when he spotted the Iron Man armor and Dummy and then, before Tony could even say hello, he backed out of the room at double speed, vanishing into the hallway.

“Steve?” Tony stood up, cracking his back.

Steve peeked out from around the corner, holding onto the door frame for dear life. His eyes were so large Tony was pretty sure they could have given a couple of saucers a run for their money. “Tony?”

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” Tony ambled towards the door, rubbing a hand over his lower back. “You scared?”

Steve nodded.

Tony held his arms out. “It’s ok. Come here – I’ll show you around.”

Steve gave the wall a sorrowful stare and then let go, walking back through the doorway. He didn’t look up, shuffling forwards instead until he bumped into Tony’s legs. The moment he made contact, he wrapped his arms around Tony’s shins, burying his face in Tony’s sweat pants.

“Aww, it’s ok,” Tony said. He reached down and ruffled Steve’s hair. He was tempted to pick Steve up, but he didn’t think his back would appreciate it very much; he dropped down to his knees and wrapped his arms around Steve, giving him a firm hug. He knew what it was like to see a workshop like this for the first time; he had been terrified of Howard’s lab the first time he had seen it, and although he had grown to love the place, it had always remained a little spooky to him as a child. “It’s alright. Nothing here is going to hurt you, ok. I know it looks pretty scary, but it’s all safe.”

“Do you promise?” Steve whispered in Tony’s ear, squashing his face against Tony’s neck.

“I promise, honeybunny. It’s fine.”

“Ok,” Steve said. He didn’t let go of Tony’s neck; he held on tight, keeping himself wedged in place against Tony’s chest, which was a surprise considering how thin his arms were. “I believe you.”

Tony grimaced and lifted Steve up. His back groaned in protest but it wasn’t too bad – at least not now, anyway. He was pretty sure he would be lying flat on the floor later, but that was a small price to pay for Steve’s peace of mind. He carried Steve towards the Iron Man first, showing it to Steve as it stood idle in its rack waiting to be disassembled and worn. “This is Iron Man.”

Steve turned cautiously peeking at the armor over his shoulder. “It’s _big_ ,” Steve said in a very small voice.

“It’s not _that_ big,” Tony said, bringing them closer. He patted the armor on the head, letting his hand rest there. “See? It won’t bite.”

Steve looked unconvinced, but he reached out anyway and ran his fingers over the helmet, copying Tony’s movements. He seemed to relax when the faceplate didn’t snap at him, but he still pulled his hand back quickly after he was finished. “Where did you get it from?”

“I’m an engineer, remember? I built it,” Tony said, shifting Steve against his hip. “Jarvis, disengage the helmet and gauntlets, will you?”

“Done,” Jarvis said, “Would you like me to have Dummy back up, sir?”

Tony heard Dummy toot sadly from behind him. He laughed as he lifted up the helmet, giving his head a shake. “He’s fine where he is for now.” He held the helmet up in front of Steve and turned it over so the kid could look at the circuitry inside. “See? There’s nothing in there. No boogie-men hiding here.”

Steve stuck his hand inside the helmet and then pulled it back out. He wiggled his fingers, seeming surprised that nothing had happened to them. “Are you a knight?”

Tony smiled. “Well, not really. This is a suit of armor though, so I guess you could say I’m _like_ a knight.” He put the helmet back onto the armor and disconnected the left gauntlet, putting it on; the metal slid smoothly up his arm, clicking in place.

Steve’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head. He leaned back, almost falling out of Tony’s grasp.

“It’s ok,” Tony said soothingly, holding his hand up for Steve to see. “It didn’t hurt me. It’s like wearing a big metal gloves.”

Steve eyed the gauntlet with trepidation. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” Tony said, clenching and unclenching his fist. “Go ahead. Give it a feel.”

Steve gingerly prodded Tony’s hand, feeling his way along the gauntlet’s finger joints. When he looked up again he was grinning. “Wow! You made it? Really?”

“Yep,” Tony said, setting Steve down on the floor. “I really, really, made it. Go ahead. Poke away to your heart’s content. You can’t break it – go wild.” He chuckled as Steve lunged forward and started feeling along the armor’s legs and torso, his eye wide and excited.

“See,” Tony said, turning to Dummy who had wheeled slowly up behind him, “I told you it would be _fine_.”

Dummy waved his arm in agreement.

Tony took the gauntlet off and reattached it to the armor. As much as he loved showing the Armor off, he didn’t think it was a smart idea to show Steve the repulsors just yet; _someone_ would probably have an aneurism at the thought of the kid flying around, even if it was under direct, professional, supervision. There was always another day for _that_ , after all; it would be kind of adorable to see Steve flying around, now that he thought about it. Hell, he could build Steve his own mini-armor. That would probably be fun. He watched as Steve clambered all over the armor, inspecting and feeling every last bit of metal he could get his little hands on. Tony cocked his hip to the side, patting Dummy fondly on his hand. “See? He likes it too.”

Steve turned away from the armor, finished with his exploration. His gaze settled on Dummy and for a split second he looked panicked again; his body gave a twitch as his legs bent at the knees, and he took a single step backwards.

“This is Dummy,” Tony said, deliberately patting Dummy on the hand again so that Steve could see that nothing bad was going to happen. “I built him when I was around your age.”

“Really?” Steve approached Dummy and held his hand out. “Hi,”

Tony tapped Dummy on the hand. “Go ahead. Just be gentle with him. He’s little.”

“I am _not_ ,” Steve grumbled.

Dummy tooted and rolled forward, creeping his way towards Steve until they were standing a few inches apart. He raised his hand and extended it until one of his fingers poked Steve in the shoulder. He lowered his hand and held it out, offering it to Steve.

Steve laughed and shook Dummy’s hand. He was nearly lifted into the air when Dummy started shaking back. Steve let out a squeal and latched onto Dummy with his arms and legs, holding tightly on as the robot lifted him up. “Hey!”

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” Tony said, tapping his foot on the ground.

Steve giggled as Dummy spun in a slow circle, carrying him around.

“Traitor,” Tony chuckled. He stalked over to his desk, keeping one eye on them even though he knew Jarvis was doing the same thing. “Record that, will you Jarvis?”

“I am already recording, sir,” Jarvis said, sounding amused.

“Excellent,” Tony said with a grin. He fished the bag of goodies he had bought in Japan for Steve out from under his desk, laying everything out. He had planned on giving this stuff to the kid later on, but now seemed as good a time as any.

Dummy did another slow circle as Steve hung off of his arm. He beeped and drove across the room towards Tony, bumping him in the leg when he arrived. Tony smiled down at them. “Looks like you’ve both got a new friend.”

Steve let go of Dummy, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, and dropped back to the ground. He patted Dummy on the hand and stared up at Tony with a toothy grin. “That was fun!”

“It looked like it,” Tony agreed. “I’m a little too big to ride on him anymore. It’s a good thing you’re the right size.”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a nod. “What’s that?”

“Oh, this?” Tony held his hand to his chest, batting his eyelashes. “It’s just something I threw on.”

“Not _that_ ,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips.

“Oh you mean _these_?” Tony lifted up the first of his gifts. He handed the stuffed sesame seed bagel to Steve, trying not to laugh when he realized it was almost too big for the kid to hold. “That’s yours.”

“Mine?” Steve hugged the bagel to his chest. “ _Really_?”

“Yep,” Tony said, picking up the next gift. “And this yours too.” He handed Steve a set of water colour paints, the kind that were washable and didn’t take a lot of effort to use; strictly speaking they weren’t the most Japanese of things, but they were good quality, and his personal shopper had recommended them because her own kids played with them all the time.

Steve clutched the paints in one hand, still holding on to the stuffed bagel with the other. “Thank you,” he said, shuffling his feet.

“You’re _very_ welcome,” Tony said, picking up his final gift. He passed it from hand to hand, hoping Steve would like it. It was an old school Gundam Wing figurine – the kind that needed to be hand painted and assembled. Strictly speaking, he hadn’t known if Steve actually liked robots, although judging by the way he had taken to Dummy, it probably wasn’t going to be a problem. “This one,” he said, lowering the box to show Steve, “is one we’re going to do together – if you want.”

“What is it?” Steve struggled with his bagel and paints. He squinted at the box, biting his lower lip when he tried to read the text but couldn’t.

“It’s a figurine of a robot mecha – a robot. It’s from a television show. It’s a little bit like my Iron Man, only, well… not functional, and not really realistically proportioned,” Tony said with a shrug. He knew he had been a little selfish when he had picked the model out. When he had been little, there hadn’t really been any miniature robots to paint and assemble. He had put together an entire room’s worth of model cars, boats, planes and submarines on his own when he had been Steve’s age; the boxes had always said to have a parent around to supervise, but there had never really been anyone aside from Jarvis to help him with it. Thankfully, despite the lack of adult supervision, he had never managed to super glue his hands together, but according to Jarvis, it had been a very near thing. Models were something he was good at – something he had sort of wanted to do with someone else for a long time. Assembling them on his own had been kind of… well… lonely.

“You want to work on it _together_?” Steve sounded awed.

“Of course I do,” Tony said, ruffling Steve’s hair. “I know you like to paint, right? You can help me do all the painting on it, and I’ll help you with the assembling. It’ll be fun.”

“Neato!” Steve leapt forward, awkwardly trying to wrap his arms around Tony’s leg while still holding on tightly to his other gifts. “They have tin soldiers at the toy store, but Ma says we can’t afford more than one every year. I always have to paint them myself with this little brush Ma got from a neighbor. I’m really good at painting! This is going to be fun!”

Tony rested his hand on Steve’s head. “Tin soldiers, huh? Maybe I can find some of those for us too – if you want.”

Steve hugged Tony’s legs tighter. “Thanks. That would be really swell.”

“Not a problem,” Tony said, clearing his throat.

“Oh!” Steve detached himself from Tony’s legs, shuffling his presents until he had a free hand. He grabbed Tony’s and started tugging him towards the workshop door. “Bruce said you’re supposed to come upstairs for dinner. I almost forgot,”

“Dinner, huh? It’s been that long already?”

“You have been in your workshop for thirty six hours, sir,” Jarvis said.

Tony sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Ok. Time _may_ have gotten away from me.”

“Bruce made spicy stuff,” Steve said, leading Tony towards the elevator. “Can you show me how to eat it?”

“Sure,” Tony said, letting Jarvis take them to the right floor. “Let’s go eat spicy stuff.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony plans for the future - unfortunately, the future has plans for him.

Eating spicy Indian food with Steve turned out to be far more entertaining than expected; the kid was interested in everything, and even though Tony didn’t know the names of half the stuff he was looking at it didn’t seem to dampen Steve’s enthusiasm. He just followed along as Tony loaded up a plate for him, eyeing everything as they went along the counter like he was seeing otherworldly food provided by whimsical faeries; it was, after all, not the kind of stuff they would have had lying around in the 40’s. But then things got even stranger. Steve didn’t let Tony put more than a tablespoons worth of food at any given time, and the sight of an entire piece of baked naan seemed like it was going to give the kid nightmares.

Bruce noticed Tony’s confusion and pulled him off to the side. Steve carried his plate off to the dining room table, frowning at it the entire way.

“He’s got a sort of… _thing_ about food,” Bruce said, handing Tony a bowl of Paneer and peas.

Tony scooped himself a generous helping of the curry, spreading it his basmati rice, and tried not to think about the way Steve was sitting at the table patiently staring at his food while he waited for everyone else to sit down with him. “Define _thing_ ,” he said with a sigh, “because I know some of it, but I’m thinking I don’t enough.”

“He doesn’t eat more than what he thinks he’s allowed and he won’t come back for seconds,” Bruce said, handing Tony a bowl of spiced tandoori potatoes. “I’ve seen him staring at his empty plate during dinner on three separate occasions – it’s kind of hard to watch, actually. Some of the kids I saw in India struggling with starvation did the same thing.”

“You think he’s still hungry?”

“Sometimes. He admits to it, but he never lets anyone give him anything extra,” Bruce murmured. He hovered over Tony’s plate with a bowl of pakoras, dropping a few onto it without asking if Tony actually wanted them. “We’ve been working on a bartering system – we trade with him when the food on his plate runs low. He doesn’t like it most of the time, but I’m thinking he won’t react as badly if you’re the one doing the bartering.”

“I take it he likes pakoras?” Tony asked, smiling.

“I made them once on movie night,” Bruce said, “and it was the only thing he’d take more of after the popcorn ran out of his bowl.”

“I see,”

“I made Chicken Tikka for you, by the way,” Bruce said, holding up the plate of chicken. “Take extra. Feed him.”

“Sure,” Tony said, sweeping chicken onto his plate. “I’ll see what I can do.” He wandered away from the food, and picked a chair beside Steve, setting his plate down on the table. It was weird to eat at an actual table after lounging on the couch so frequently. He turned to Steve, leaning against the back of the chair. “You want something to drink?”

Steve blinked up at him. “I don’t know.”

“You know what, I think I know just the thing,” Tony said. He patted Steve on the head and went to the fridge, filling two tall glasses with milk. He brought them back and set one down in front of Steve. “Believe me,” he said when Steve looked skeptically up at him, “you’ll need the milk. It kills the burn.”

“It does?”

“Yep,” Tony said, sitting down. He picked up his fork and started eating, chewing as obnoxiously as possible. “You can eat too, you know,” he said through a mouthful of potatoes.

Steve wrinkled his nose. He picked up his fork and started prodding his food, taking little nibbles of everything. When he got to his piece of Chicken Tikka he nearly inhaled the entire thing bones and all; his lips were stained red, his cheeks bright pink from the combination of spicy and sweet foodstuffs. He looked up, sticking out his tongue. “It’s hot!”

“Drink the milk,” Tony said solemnly, taking a sip of his own.

Steve took a tentative sip; the look of startled surprise on his face made Tony laugh so hard he almost snorted his milk.

“I told you,” Tony rasped, thumping himself on the chest.

“It’s like _magic_!” Steve said, setting the glass down. He ate his way through the rest of the food on his plate, draining the milk as he got to the spicier parts.

Tony watched Steve out of the corner of his eye, diligently shoveling food into his mouth to cover his staring; the minute Steve ran out of food he slipped another chunk of Chicken Tikka onto Steve’s plate. The kid frowned at him like he had started making armpit-fart noises around debutants.

“It’s ok. I’m not hungry,” Steve said, licking his lips.

“I took too much,” Tony said with a shrug, working on his pile of rice and daal. “Help a guy out.”

Steve ate; for someone who claimed that they weren’t hungry, he sure finished his chicken fast. Tony slipped another piece of chicken onto Steve’s plate, smiling at him when the kid got with the program and wolfed it down this time without hesitation. They ate in silence, with Tony slipping chunks of food onto Steve’s plate every time Steve started looking antsy; Steve never asked what was going on. He did, however, look very startled when Tony decided to split a chunk of chocolate pie and ice cream with him later on in the evening; the look on his face was almost bordering on reverence, like Tony had done something impossible.

“What?” Tony chuckled, putting another scoop of pumpkin ice cream onto their plate.

“You’re really going to share that with me?” Steve asked, nibbling on his lower lip.

“Yep,” Tony said, taking the plate over to the table. Steve trailed after him, keeping so close Tony came close to stepping on him by accident. He settled in his chair again and waited for Steve to clamber up into his chair again while cutting up chunks of pie with his fork.

Bruce shot Tony a soft look from across the table; Tony smiled back at him.

 

 

Tony yawned into his hand. He hadn’t been this tired in a long time, but he needed to get things finished before the night was done. He couldn’t leave things half-finished – not with Steve’s life at stake. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to focus on the screens in front of him with little success. After dinner he had fled back to his workshop, explaining to Steve at least four times that he needed to get his work done. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Steve; the kid had followed Tony downstairs with a colouring book in hand and had settled onto Tony’s couch like it was the best place on earth, claiming that he was going to work too.

Tony looked over his shoulder. Steve was lying on the couch, half asleep amongst his crayons. He had a blanket inexpertly draped over his shoulder; Dummy was standing guard at Steve’s side like a faithful golden retriever, his hand pointed at Steve’s sleeping form as if he was waiting to reach out and fix the blanket.

“What time is it Jarvis?” Tony yawned into his arm, giving his head a shake. It felt like it was two, maybe three in the morning.

“It is ten p.m. sir,” Jarvis said, dimming the lights over Steve. “May I suggest carrying Steve upstairs so that he can sleep in a proper bed?”

“ _Ten_? You’re shitting me. How is it only _ten_?” Tony staggered upright, rubbing a hand over his lower back.

“I believe time decided to not ‘fly’, sir.”

“Very funny,” Tony grumbled. He slunk over to the couch, peering down at the colouring book still lying open on the coffee table. Steve had coloured everything in using varying shades of red and gold. Huh. That was new. Somehow he had been expecting red, white and blue. He closed the colouring book and bent over Steve, wrapping the blankets around him. The kid stirred at his touch, but didn’t wake; he snorted loudly when Tony picked him up and curled forwards against Tony’s chest, holding on to the blanket where it was tucked under his chin.

“Lock up for me, will you Jarvis?” Tony whispered, sneaking towards the elevator.

“Shall I ready the elevator for Steve’s floor?”

“Yes please,” Tony said as the elevator doors snapped open in front of him.

He got off at Steve’s floor, carefully making his way past a now unconcious Thor and Clint; both were hanging off the couch, so deeply asleep they didn’t seem to notice that the television was still on; luckily, it was muted – probably Jarvis’ work – and he snuck past it without difficulty.

Tony weaved between discarded toys and stuffed animals, slipping into Steve’s bedroom with his precious cargo still snoring away like a tiny chainsaw. Steve’s bed was turned down already, the blankets folded neatly in place, and it was easy to slip Steve free from the blanket from the workshop couch into his clean bedding. Tony paused, hovering over Steve’s sleeping form. He smoothed Steve’s hair down, smiling softly at him. It was sweet to see the little guy all tuckered out; the look on his face made it clear there weren’t any nightmares for him to battle tonight.

Steve stirred, his eyelids fluttering, and yawned, curling against his pillow. He rolled over to face Tony and made as if to get up. Tony tucked him back in, sitting down on the edge of the bed to keep him from getting up. “Go to sleep, Steve,”

“Don’t wanna…” Steve murmured as his eyelids slowly drooped shut again.

“Sleep,” Tony murmured. He smoothed the blankets down around Steve’s shoulders.

“Did you hear about my Ma?” Steve asked, his voice muffled by his pillow.

“Yeah,” Tony sighed, “I heard about your Ma.” He hoped that they had made the story a good one.

“Clint says she’s probably really smart if she’s the one they picked for that mission,”

“I’d have to agree with him on that one,”

“Have you ever met her?”

“No,”

“You’ll like her. She doesn’t let anybody get away with anything,”

“She sounds like a special lady,”

“Where are your Ma and Pa? My Pa died when I was little,” Steve said, opening one eye so that he could peer sleepily up at Tony.

Tony tried not to groan aloud. “My parents died in a car accident when I was twenty one,” he said, making himself comfortable on Steve’s bed. This wasn’t exactly a good bedtime story, but if he was lucky, the kid would fall asleep before he could finish him everything. Tony leaned against the headboard, resting the back of his head against the wall. He let his eyes close. “But that was a long time ago. We weren’t very close.”

Steve unburied his hand, curling his fingers in Tony’s shirt; he gave it a gentle tug. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, buddy, I’m alright,”

“I don’t know what I’d do if my Ma died,” Steve said softly. “It must be really lonely without parents.”

Tony shrugged. “You get used to it after a while,” he said, supressing a yawn, “but it gets better. And besides – I’m not lonely. I’ve got you and all the other Avengers here with me. Why would I be lonely?”

“I’d be lonely,” Steve said, lifting his head. “If I didn’t have my Ma, and Bucky and you, I’d be lonely.”

Tony ruffled Steve’s hair, earning a scowl from Steve. “Well, I’m not lonely,” he said, easing himself up off of the bed. While it was tempting to stay sitting on Steve’s bed, his back didn’t like being in one position for too long when he had better things to do; his bed was calling his name for once, and he intended to make use of it. “Get some sleep, Steve,”

“I will,” Steve said, lowering his head back onto his pillow. “Sleep tight, Tony.”

“You too, Steve,” Tony said, tucking Steve in again just for the hell of it. He smoothed Steve’s hair down again, smiling to himself and left Steve to his dreams. He slipped from Steve’s apartment in silence, avoiding Thor and Clint just as easily as before.

He made his way up to the penthouse.

It _was_ lonely, Tony thought as he stepped out into his empty living room. There was no noise up here – nothing except for the hum of electricity and the dull buzz of the fridge; there was no one snoring on his couch, or sprawled on his carpet. There was no one waiting in his bed either. If he had walked into the place without knowing it was his house, he might have though no one lived there at all. Everything was neatly in its place; there was no magazine left crooked, and no trash in sight. It felt almost clinical – sterile, even.

He padded his way into his bedroom, finding his bed still done up tight from when the maid service had come in to clean things up for him during his trip. He sighed, tugging the coverlet and blankets free. If things went right, some of Steve’s good luck would rub off on him and his dreams would be nightmare free too. He hoped he could be that lucky.

 

 

Tony groaned as he woke; the bed was shaking for some reason, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. He tried to roll over, thinking that it might help, but found that it just made things worse.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was soft and close to Tony’s ear.

Tony pulled his pillow up over his head. “Noooooooooo……”

“ _Toooooony_?” Steve hopped on the mattress and dropped down onto his knees, bouncing up and down as the springs settled.

“ _Steeeeeve_?”

“Are you getting up yet?”

“No,”

“Really?”

Tony sighed, lifting the pillow up a fraction of an inch so he could see Steve’s face. “You’re up way too early for your age. You should be sleeping.”

“Nuh huh! I wake up at this time every day!” Steve said, his hands on his hips.

“Well, who taught you how do to that? They’re stupid,” Tony grunted, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Ma goes to work early in the morning,” Steve said, cocking his head to the side. “Ma says that if I sleep all day I’ll get a sore back.”

“I see. But why do _I_ have to get up?”

“Ms. Potts says you need to have a _conversation_ ,” Steve said, leaning down to peer into the crack between Tony’s pillow and the mattress. “Is that bad? It kind of _sounds_ bad.”

“It sounds bad to me too,” Tony grumbled, sitting up. He hadn’t thought Pepper would find out about his plans so quickly; hell, they weren’t even _finalized_ yet. He let his pillow drop behind him and scrubbed a hand through his hair, wondering if he could get away with seeing her without taking a shower first. He gave his armpit a cursory sniff and laughed when Steve wrinkled his nose at him. Yep. That was probably a no, then, if even the kid was giving him funny looks. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve said, flopping onto his side.

“Oh, like you’ve never smelled _bad_ before in your life,” Tony teased. “Jarvis?” He rose, slipping free from his blankets even though all he wanted to do was curl back up in them. He cracked his back, going up on his toes to stretch himself out. Well, the upside of being awake was that he would get to drink some good coffee again, he mused, letting out a jaw cracking yawn. That, and if he was lucky he might get some pancakes if Bruce was feeling particularly energetic.

“Yes, sir?” Jarvis asked.

“Tell Pep I’m going to take a shower, alright?”

“Done, sir. May I recommend coming downstairs wearing _clean_ clothing this time? I’ve heard it can make difficult conversations easier.”

“Smartass,” Tony grumbled. “Alright – I’m going to shower – go do whatever it is you do,” he said to Steve, before slipping into the bathroom. When he emerged twenty minutes later with a towel wrapped around his waist, smelling far more like pineapples and far less like burnt oil, he found Steve snoring loudly. The kid was tangled in the blankets like they had been trying to eat him and he had valiantly fought them off; Tony’s pillow was tucked under his body, keeping him comfortable. Tony chuckled at the sight and retrieved his clothing in silence before slipping back into the bathroom.

 

Steve rubbed his eyes sleepily as Tony hoisted him up. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yep,” Tony said, letting Jarvis clear the way for him. He had thought about leaving Steve to sleep in his bed, but had decided it would be smarter to simply take the little guy with him; if there was one thing Pepper couldn’t resist, it was cute little kids, and he had a feeling he would need all the help he could get. He grinned to himself as they rounded the corner, knowing that things would be just fine.

The look on Pepper’s face had him sprinting back around the corner.

“ _Tony_!” Pepper’s voice bordered on shrill. She had a file trapped in her hand; it was crumpled from the way she was holding on to it and looked like it had gone a few rounds with the paper shredder. Pepper’s clothing was crooked; the buttons weren’t quite done up right, and her make up looked a little off, like she had done it while running.

Shit.

He was definitely in trouble, and no amount of tiny, adorable Steves was going to change that.

Tony reluctantly walked back around the corner, slinking into his living room. “I can explain,” he said, holding Steve in front of him like a shield.

Pepper narrowed her eyes. “What were you _thinking_?”

“I was thinking that I need to keep the Captain safe, and this was the only way to do it,” Tony said, setting Steve down. He tried to shoo Steve towards the couch, but the kid refused to leave; he grabbed Tony by the hand, dragging him towards the couch instead of scampering off like most kids at the first sign of an Adult Argument.

“Tony,” Pepper sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Tony, what are you talking about?”

“This isn’t about my plans?” Tony lifted Steve up onto the couch and turned the television on, flipping to cartoons. He patted Steve on the head idly, trying to keep himself calm. “Sit. Watch TV. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“K’,” Steve said, hugging a pillow. He turned to watch Tony walk towards the kitchen. “Are you going to yell?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, turning around to face the couch again. “Why would we be yelling?”

“The couple that lived across the hall from Ma and I used to yell a lot,” Steve said, peeking over the back of the couch. “They used to throw things too.”

Pepper’s stern look softened. “Oh honey,” she said, sitting down on the couch beside Steve, “We’re not going to throw things or shout. Well,” she glowered at Tony, “I might yell a _little_ , but it’s not because we’re fighting like _that_. Tony did something without telling me about it first and he caused a lot of trouble.”

“Oh,” Steve looked down at his hands and then at Tony. “It wasn’t my fault, was it?”

“No,” Tony said, sweeping forward to rest a hand on Steve’s head. “It’s _definitely_ not your fault. It’s my fault, and I accept full responsibility – you’re not allowed to have any.” He smiled when Steve frowned at him. “I’ll be fine. We just need to talk about my road trip.”

“Your road trip?” Steve looked confused. “But you just got _home_!”

“I know. I’ll explain after, ok? Pep and I need to talk in private,” Tony said, nodding towards Pepper. She stood up and fixed Steve’s hair before following Tony into the kitchen with the mangled folder still in hand.

Pepper sat down at the table, letting out an irritated grumble when she realized she had sat down on a tablet. She lifted it up and set it and the folder on the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “Explain. Now.”

“Jarvis? Engage privacy buffer – tell me if Steve wants to come into the kitchen,” Tony said, heading towards the coffee pot. “You want any?”

“No thank you,” Pepper said, drumming her fingers on her arm, “I’d rather have an explanation instead.”

“As you already know, Hydra’s after Steve,”

Pepper shuddered. “Have they decided to make a move?”

“Yes,” Tony said, filling his mug with piping hot coffee. He dropped in a handful of sugar cubes and carried it over to the table, dropping into his seat across from Pepper. “They’ve got LMDs all over the place in the city, and SHIELD’s pretty sure they’re hoping for a snatch-and-dash. They want Steve – probably for reconditioning.”

“That’s _awful_ ,” Pepper said, her hands dropping into her lap. “I was just going to give you shit for giving me no notice about your trip – but this is insane! Do you really think they’d try something like that? Can’t we just keep him here in the tower? It’s safe here.”

“According to Coulson’s files, Hydra isn’t going to keep playing around for much longer. They’re getting more violent – It’s only a matter of time before they get frustrated and try an outright assault on the tower, and while I know we’d be able to hold it, I don’t want to take the risk of anyone else getting caught in the crossfire. Right now it looks like they’re testing the waters, sinking a few LMDs into our system to see what they can get past us. Their equipment is good, Pep,” Tony said, sipping his coffee. He gave her a grim scowl. “I’d be worried, but thankfully, SHIELD has me.”

“I’m sure that’s the word they used,” Pepper said dryly. “How long do you think you’re going to be gone for?”

“We’re hoping we’ll have things wrapped up within a month, but I’m not sure how long it’s going to take to be honest. They might stick around until Steve turns back,”

“And that’s _when_ , exactly?”

“Still unknown, as far as I know,”

“Oh, Tony,” Pepper sighed. “Does he know?”

“Who?” Tony quirked an eyebrow.

“Steve,”

“Oh. God, no,” Tony said, setting his coffee down. “No. He doesn’t know anything. He thinks he’s here because his mom’s a time traveling spy working for SHIELD.”

“Oh god,” Pepper groaned. “This just gets better and better. That poor child.”

“Well, I mean, technically speaking it could be worse,” Tony shrugged. “At least we’re the ones that got to him first. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if he’d been hit by that beam when no one from the team was around. He might have still been wandering the streets like a lost puppy,”

“Or he might have been lured into the back of some creepy pervert’s van,” Pepper murmured. “I see what you mean by it being worse.” She looked down at the crumpled file, pursing her lips. “You’ve got it covered, haven’t you? Somehow I don’t think you’d let something happen to the little guy.”

“Oh?” Tony picked up his coffee again, needing something to hold. Talking about an attempted kidnapping reminded him a little too much of his own; over the years he had been snatched up seven different times, and it never got easier to deal with. People were such _assholes_ when they wanted money or power.

Pepper smiled at him. “You like him,”

“Who?”

“ _Steve_ ,”

“Who doesn’t like Steve?” Tony said, swirling the coffee in his mug.

“Alright,”

“Alright?”

“I’ll cover for you – _again_ – while you’re busy playing house. But you need to promise me one thing,” Pepper said, pushing the file across the table towards Tony. He picked it up, flipping it open; he didn’t like what he saw. “You need to play it by the books this time – at least for a little while. I know you plan better than they do, but they’ve been doing the whole witness relocation slash protection thing for longer than you have. They may, _god forbid_ , actually know what they’re doing.”

“Oh god,” he groaned, letting his head drop onto the table with a thud. “Come _on_. Do I _have_ to?”

“Coulson asked me directly,” Pepper said, running her fingers through her bangs. “Frankly, I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about until you mentioned Hydra again. I thought you were just going to take Steve out to see the world – maybe fly him to Disney World.” She scowled at her bangs when she noticed that they were crooked and started fixing them, tugging her loose pony-tail free; her hair fell in front of her face in waves, shimmering under the kitchen lights. Tony pursed his lips and wondered for the fifth time that month why they had broken up. He sighed and looked back down at the folder so she wouldn’t catch him staring at her like a horny schoolboy.

“I get why Coulson wants to come along, because let’s face it, all my trips are awesome, but is there a reason why we can’t just have Thor or Bruce come with us instead?” Tony sighed wearily. “Don’t answer that. I know why. Thor attracts too much attention, and giant green rage monsters aren’t good with children. You know I had this all planned out – I didn’t _need_ their help.”

“I know that – I told Phil the exact same thing, but he wasn’t convinced it was a good idea to leave Steve alone with you for that long without having someone around to trade off with. He thinks you’re too selfish to deal with children,” Pepper said, putting her hair back up. “We both know that’s a load of shit, but Phil claims he’s trying to cover all the bases.”

“Nice to know he thinks so highly of me,” Tony muttered. “I guess that’s what I get for being a good boy and sending them a goddamned _preliminary_ briefing.”

“Yes, well, as you said, it could be worse.”

“Who else is butting in on my trip? I need to tweak the details – goddamn it! I was so close to being done!”

“Natasha says she’s going to tag along while the rest of the Avengers work on taking down Hydra from behind the scenes. She’ll tail you from a distance but you won’t see her. I guess she’s going to make her own arrangements so you probably don’t need to worry about booking more rooms,”

“Why did they decide to tell _you_ about this first?” Tony said, setting his mug down on the table a little harder than he intended. His coffee shot up over the sides of the mug, dribbling onto the countertop, leaving behind a black puddle. “I’m too _volatile_ to take the news? Too _self-absorbed_ to handle being told what a childish ass I am?”

“I guess they thought I would break the news better – or maybe they figured that you wouldn’t have told me about it yet, so I’d be the perfect mouthpiece after they gave me a heads-up,” Pepper sighed, grabbing a piece of paper towel off the roll beside her. She handed it to Tony, and watched as he sopped up his mess. “I would have preferred to hear it from you first, but I have a feeling you were going to send me the finalized work instead of feeding me bits at a time, so I guess I jumped the gun a little.”

“Yeah,”

“For the record,” Pepper said as she stood up, walking over to stand beside Tony. She took his face in her hands and kissed him on the forehead. “I believe that you’ll do an amazing job with Steve. I know you, Tony. You might be grumpy, and a little annoying, but you always do the right thing. You’d never let something happen to a kid, even if they weren’t a teammate.”

“Damn right,” Tony muttered, giving Pepper his grouchiest smile.

“You’re going to have to leave tonight, you know,” Pepper said, stroking Tony’s cheek. “They moved the timeline up while you were sleeping.”

“Good thing they told _me_ that,”

“I told them I’d tell you,”

“I guess I can forgive you,” Tony said, wrapping his arms around Pepper’s waist. He leaned against her, resting his head against her stomach. “God I hope I don’t fuck this up.”

“You won’t,” Pepper said, stroking his hair. “You’ll be fine.”

“So are we telling Steve something, or am I just springing a crazy trip on the kid?” Tony said with a sigh.

“I apologize for interrupting,” Jarvis said, “but Agent Coulson is requesting that Ms. Potts bring Steve down to the common floor. He has asked me to tell you that you should finish packing, sir,”

“Great,” Tony reluctantly pulled away from Pepper. “I guess this is it then.”

“I guess so,” Pepper said with a rueful smile. “Have fun – and keep Steve safe.”

“Will do,” Tony said, pushing back his chair. “I think I need another coffee before I tackle my suitcase.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Alright. But don’t take too long.”

“I won’t,” Tony said, heading for the coffee pot. “This’ll just take a minute.”

 

 

The plan went off without a hitch, despite the fact that it had been rewritten earlier that morning; the Avengers escorted Tony and an LMD version of Steve to Tony’s private jet and then waited until take off before going their separate ways, slipping Steve away from prying eyes. Thor flew alongside the jet the entire way ‘guarding’ them, and then when they landed, he flew alongside Tony’s rental car until they arrived at their hotel.

No one approached Tony directly, but his sensors picked up seven different signals following him. He snorted to himself as he gathered up his bags and snuck out the back door of the hotel, LMD Steve safety following him like a faithful dog. They made it the exchange point easily, and were intercepted within a few minutes by a harassed looking Clint, who gave Tony the keys to a new vehicle and then made off with LMD Steve and Tony’s original car.

Hydra could have at least _tried_ to stay hidden; even if he hadn’t had an LMD detector in his pocket the entire time, Tony could have spotted them from a mile away. They went off after Clint as soon as they saw him, and while they couldn’t keep up with him, they seemed determined to give chase as long as it took. They ignored Tony completely; he wasn’t sure whether he should be offended by that or not. Maybe they didn’t think he was capable of taking care of a little kid either. He tried not to be too bitter about it.

Tony drove off before they could come back and reconsider their decision; he swapped cars again, this time at a grocery store parking lot. The SHIELD agent who had left it for him was long gone, but they had done a good job picking out the shittiest truck he had ever seen. He was surprised the thing still ran; it was so rusty he thought the frame was going to give out. He changed clothing in a Starbucks bathroom and drove the rest of the way wearing a pair of worn jeans and a sweat stained t-shirt that read ‘ _I’m with Stupid’_. It had a little arrow on it too, and as expected, it was pointing down. He was pretty sure Pepper wouldn’t have let him get within ten feet of her looking like this. The holographic display watch he had made was warping his facial features enough for him to be just another greasy hobo on the road.

He drove on, not bothering to stop for sleep until he could barely keep his eyes open; he found himself a dingy hotel, set up surveillance and slept like the dead. The team kept radio silence; he dreamed that Steve was in a Hydra camp and spent the next morning throwing up out his window every few feet until he had nothing left in his stomach.

 

Two more cars and three days later, Tony arrived at Silver Shell, a small tourist town with plenty of beach houses, sand and water; it hadn’t been Tony’s first choice, but it had two very important features that had bumped it to the top of the list. One – n _o one_ bothered to come here, even when it was in season and two – it was cheap as dirt, a place _Tony Stark_ would never set foot in, unless of course he wanted to cut said foot off afterwards.

He stopped off at a pit stop to freshen up; this wasn’t the first time he had scrubbed himself down in the sink with a bar of complimentary soap he had swiped from a hotel room, but it was the first time he had done it with a different face. He had to turn the hologram off so that he didn’t accidentally slice his nose off when he shaved, but all in all it wasn’t so bad. Once finished, now blessedly stench free, he modified his hologram so that he looked respectable instead of sleazy before exchanging his old clothes for a pair of clean slacks and a button up shirt. He left the bathroom a changed man – literally.

He drove through town to Beach House Number Seven, a respectable-yet-dingy little shack on the north side of town that came complete with its own wharf; the paint was faded, and the wind chimes were a bit on the damaged side, but it would do.

Steve was on him the second he stepped out of the car; the kid moved _fast_ , practically appearing out of nowhere. He was still wearing his own holographic display watch – one Tony had built specially for him – and at first Tony didn’t even realize who was manhandling him. Steve apparently hadn’t had the same problem figuring out who he was, because he wrapped himself around Tony’s shins before he even said hello; he looked like he was practically vibrating with pent-up energy.

“Tony!”

“Hey, Steve,” Tony said, relaxing for the first time in days. He looked around for Coulson, but couldn’t spot the agent anywhere; the television was on inside the Beach House, but other than that the place was lifeless – not that he was complaining. He bent down and scooped Steve up, telling his sore back to fuck off, and carried the kid inside before the sand could get a good look at them.

Coulson looked up as they walked in; he was sitting with his back to the door, his arm draped over the back of the couch as if his sweetheart had wandered off to the bathroom during the commercial break. He glanced from the television to Steve and back.

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching him?” Tony asked, locking the door behind him. He put his thumb to the security pad, checking himself into the system with Steve hanging off of his neck. He glared at Coulson. At least one of the security precautions was _working_.

“I _am_ watching him,” Coulson said, gesturing to the television. Sure enough, it was streaming security feeds from the seventeen cameras SHIELD had put up around the beach house. Tony had known they were there, but a part of him didn’t quite trust them to work properly; it was _SHIELD_ who had installed them after all, and they had been the ones to get Steve into trouble in the first place.

Tony set Steve down on the couch, looking around the room, surveying his new kingdom. He already knew the layout – had known it for days – but somehow it wasn’t quite like how he had pictured it. Sure, it had three bedrooms, a bathroom, kitchen and living room, but it looked a lot smaller than it should have. That and there was a lot more white washing and driftwood than he would have liked. Christ, someone had built the television stand out of driftwood too – and was that a shell glued to the wallpaper? Who the hell had designed this place? Had it been a mermaid? Because he was pretty sure a mermaid was the only one who would find the place appealing; he would have bulldozed the entire beach in a heartbeat to get away from that god-awful wallpaper.

“We’re safe,” Coulson said, noticing Tony’s frown. “I’ve done bug sweeps seventy six times already, and the cameras are being tested at regular intervals by Jarvis as well as our surveillance team.”

“Sure,”

“Natasha reported in sixteen minutes ago. She says everything is fine,” Coulson continued, patting Steve’s shoulder.

“Uh huh,” Tony muttered. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to do a few scans of my own.”

“Knock yourself out,” Coulson murmured, turning back to face the television.

Steve hopped off the couch, following along as Tony moved room by room, sweeping for bugs and traps; it was tedious work, but Steve was good company and eager to talk.

“We rode on a motorcycle,” Steve said, following Tony into the first bedroom. By the looks of it, this one was Coulson’s; you could have bounced a quarter off the sheets, they were so tightly pulled over the mattress. The room had the same hideous wallpaper; whoever ran the place had obviously gotten the stuff at a discount, because there was no other excuse for there being five different layers of the crap. He scanned the room three times before he was satisfied enough to leave.

“So you rode a motorcycle, huh,” Tony said as they walked into the next bedroom. Again, he was greeted by the same hideous wallpaper. It just seemed to get worse and worse. “I hope someone gave you a helmet.” This room was empty, waiting for an occupant; he recognized his bag sitting on the bed and let out a sigh. Ah, yes. This was his room. He gave it three scans and then checked in his bag to see what had made it through Natasha’s purge. There were a few pairs of jeans and shirts inside – a few pairs of underwear and socks too. It wasn’t much; nothing flashy or ostentatious, but then again he hadn’t picked anything like that to take with him. His Iron Man t-shirt had not made the cut, it seemed; he hoped it hadn’t ended up in a dumpster somewhere. Something else had taken its place. He scowled when he pulled out a very obnoxious pink mickey mouse t-shirt. He held it up, scrutinizing the label.

“Natasha let me buy that for you,” Steve said, shuffling in place.

Tony smiled softly at Steve, tucking the shirt into his bag. “It’s awesome. I can safely say I don’t have anything like it. Thanks,”

“You’re welcome,” Steve grinned. “How was your trip? Did you get to ride in a Quinjet too?”

“Nope,” Tony said, giving the room another scan just for the hell of it. “I had to drive here all by myself.” He shooed Steve out of the room and moved on to the last bedroom, mindful of the toys sitting in the doorway.

“This is my room,” Steve said, scrambling to clean up. He stuffed the teddy bears and foam dinosaurs into a bag against the wall, looking sheepish. “Sorry. I left it messy.”

“No worries little man,” Tony said, sidestepping a foam giraffe. “You’ve seen my workshop. This is neat and tidy compared to that,”

“Coulson said I shouldn’t leave stuff lying around,” Steve said. He picked up a ball-shaped toy and held it to his chest; it was red and gold and looked _suspiciously_ like Iron Man. Tony squinted at the toy, trying to see what it was. Steve hugged it tighter, his cheeks going faintly pink. “What?”

“What’cha got there?” Tony asked, kneeling down so that he could get a better look at the toy. It looked mighty fine for a stuffed toy.

Steve reluctantly handed it over to Tony, looking down at his feet, a nervous smile on his face.

The toy was _adorable_ ; Tony was going to buy himself one the minute he got home – hell, he’d buy two or three. It really did look like Iron Man, but it was based on one of the older armor models. Its little arms were sewed to its front, but its stumpy little feet were free to move about. He ran his fingers over the Iron Man helmet stitched into the front of the ball, laughing at the tiny, perfectly round arc reactor. It didn’t quite match the real thing, but he didn’t think it made the toy any less charming. He handed the Iron Man ball back to Steve, patting it on the head. “That’s _cute_.”

“Pepper gave it to me,” Steve said, hugging the toy again.

“Oh yeah?” Tony straightened up, trying not to grin. “Pepper’s been holding out on me. We’re going to have to have words when I get back. How could I have not known of this _majestic_ creature?”

“You like it?”

“I _love_ it,” Tony said. “I’m going to ask her where she got it and get a few more.”

“Cool! I brought my bagel too. Natasha said we might be here for a really long time, and I didn’t want it to get lonely,” Steve said.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Tony chuckled. The kid followed him out into the kitchen, shadowing him as he went about scanning every appliance he could find; when Tony was done, having gone so far as to poke around under the bathroom sink, Steve dragged Tony over to the kitchen table, looking mournfully at the fridge.

“When did you guys eat last?” Tony asked. He wasn’t hungry, strictly speaking, but the look on Steve’s face made it clear the kid was, and he was more than willing to help him out.

“We had lunch a few hours ago, but I guess it’s time for dinner,” Coulson said, getting up from the couch. He shouldered his way past Tony, sticking his head into the fridge while Tony scowled at his back. He pulled out a bunch of meat and condiments, setting everything up on the table in an orderly line.

“I take it you guys did your own shopping?” Tony snorted, eyeing the pitiful contents of the fridge; he had seen more food in dorm rooms. “I think there are people out there who dumpster-dive for a living who eat better.”

Coulson glared at him, clearly unimpressed by Tony’s candor. He picked up a loaf of wonder bread and started pulling out slices, setting them on plates. “We have to be careful here, Stark. We can’t run around buying five hundred dollars’ worth of groceries in one go,” he said, opening a jar of no-name-brand mayonnaise.

Tony cringed. “You do realize that real mayo isn’t _that_ out of your budget, right?”

“This _is_ real mayonnaise,” Coulson said, slathering margarine on the second slice of bread for all three sandwiches. “And if don’t like it, you can go get the groceries next time.”

“Right,” Tony said, leaning his hip against the table. He glanced at Steve, and saw that the kid was busy staring a hole in the back of Coulson’s shirt; Steve must have been hungry if no-name-brand mayonnaise and margarine was an appetizing combination. “Point me at the store and I’ll take care of it.”

“You can’t flash a lot of cash around here,” Coulson grumbled, looking up from his sandwiches. “This is a small town, Stark – they don’t get a lot of people here aside from tourists, and the ones who come here are the poor ones.”

“Thanks for the history lesson, but I did the reading, remember?” Tony sat down in the chair across from Steve. “I’m the one who picked the place.”

“Right,” Coulson said, thinly distributing ham onto each sandwich.

“You’re a bit of a miser, did you know that?” Tony asked, rolling his eyes.

“And you’re a bit of a whiny brat,” Coulson said, smiling over his shoulder. “Did _you_ know that?”

“I _did_ know that,” Tony said, with a shrug. “But what can you do?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Coulson said. He turned back to his sandwiches and finished them off with a wafer of cheese, lettuce and tomato. The first plate, naturally, went to Steve – not that Tony was complaining; feeding Steve had been the whole point, after all. He was tempted, however, to ask if Coulson had spit in his food just to see how the guy would react.

Coulson handed Tony a plate and then started eating his own sandwich, his eyes trained on Steve the entire time; it was a little unnerving how he didn’t end up biting himself considering he wasn’t watching what he was doing.

Tony bit into his own sandwich with a sigh. He was going to have to go grocery shopping, and boy did he _hate_ grocery shopping – there was a reason why he had things delivered directly to his house; it wasn’t that he didn’t know what he was doing. He had done his own shopping all the time at university. It was just that he couldn’t stand being trapped in lines anymore; milling around with people made him break out into cold sweats these days, and while he knew no one was going to recognize him in a store here in bumfuck-nowhere, he still couldn’t bring himself to feel any more chipper about it.

Steve took a big bite of his sandwich, happily chewing his way through his flimsy slice of tomato; Tony knew damn well the kid hated tomatoes, but there he was, eating it anyway. Steve must have been hungrier than he had first thought. Tony shook his head and nibbled at the side of sandwich. Ah hell. He tore his sandwich in half when he saw that Steve had already finished his and set the un-nibbled part down on Steve’s plate.

Steve looked up at him solemnly. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Tony said, smiling back. “Eat.”

Steve snatched up the sandwich half, devouring it before Tony could lean back into his chair. He looked like he was thinking about licking his plate clean. Tony chuckled, biting into his sandwich again. The kid was like a python; it was surprising the little guy hadn’t tried to unhinge his jaw and swallow the plate whole.

He sighed to himself, licking his fingers clean. There was no getting out of it now – he definitely needed to go grocery shopping tomorrow; growing boys needed to eat after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Man ball toy is a real thing - it's called Ty Beanie Ballz Iron Man Plush if anyone wants to see it. I've got two of them : ) They come in small, medium and large, which is evil because they're all too cute. I've got a medium and large. I probably wasted too much money on them, but they're so damn adorable~~~ I couldn't resist. 
> 
> Let me know if there's anything weird in here! Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes are made, but Tony's not one to let an opportunity to pass him by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for a conversation mentioning the torture and mutilation/destruction of an LMD. Just a heads up.
> 
> Let me know if there's anything strange in here! : )

Tony got up early the next morning, intending to hit the road as soon as he could figure out where Coulson had hidden the goddamned coffee machine. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the bastard cleared his throat directly behind him. He whirled around, his heart hammering in his chest, almost knocking his mug off the countertop. “Jesus – what the fuck is your problem?”

“Language,” Coulson said, giving Tony a look that promised pain and suffering in the near future. He reached around Tony and steadied his wobbling mug. “I’m getting ready to go to the store. I’m assuming that’s what you’re doing.”

Tony scowled. “Yeah – that’s what I’m doing.”

“Alright. I’ll wake Steve up when we’ve got breakfast ready,” Coulson said. He turned away and opened up the fridge, pulling out a yellow carton of eggs, humming to himself as he worked. “I’m sure your royal palate can handle a few more lowbrow meals.”

Tony sighed and went back to searching for the coffee maker; it wasn’t worth starting a fight – yet. Not when there was coffee hanging in the balance. He was extremely glad he had decided on a whim to pack a few bags of coffee beans, and a grinder with him; the can of decaf Maxwell House he had found in the cupboard made it clear that Coulson was indeed planning on killing him after a long drawn out bout of coffee-related torture. “Where’s the coffee machine?” he asked after spending another fruitless minute searching through the remaining cupboards.

“It’s under the sink,” Coulson said, cracking eggs into the middle of a frying pan. The bastard didn’t even drop any shells into it either. He set a pack of fatty maple bacon on a plate and waited patiently for the eggs to fry, tapping his flipper on the side of the pan as if this was something he had done every day of his life.

Tony wrestled the coffee machine free from under a pile of rags; he had known he was going to find a disaster there beneath the sink, but he hadn’t thought it was going to be _this_ bad. He wanted to weep when he got a good look at it; the coffee maker looked like it had followed Steve through _time_. It was probably older than _he_ was – hell, it didn’t even have a goddamned timer on it. Tony sighed, shaking his head. He could upgrade it, sure, but that would mean hitting up an electronics and or hardware store, and he knew for a fact that this place didn’t have either – that, and he was working with a budget, one that was meant for feeding a ravenous mini super soldier. He sighed and wiped the coffee maker down before plugging it in, putting a filter in before he forgot about it. “Oh thank god,” he said as it turned on without bursting into flames. At least it _worked_. He could deal with staring at it while it brewed – it wasn’t like he hadn’t made coffee in difficult places before. Hell, he had made it in a hub cap before; this was luxurious by comparison. He headed to his room to retrieve a bag of beans and his coffee grinder and wound up nearly tripping on a sleepy looking Steve.

“ _Jesus_ – sorry, I know, I know – no taking names in vain and all that. _Jeeze_ ,” Tony said, clutching the bag of coffee and grinder to his chest. “You scared me, buddy.”

Steve rubbed his eyes. He was wearing Iron Man pajamas; Tony had a hard time not cooing at him like he was some kind of fluffy animal. “Are we going somewhere? I thought we were done traveling?”

“We’re not traveling,” Tony said, slinking back into the kitchen with Steve dogging his heels. “Don’t worry. I’m just making coffee, because after breakfast we’re going to go grocery shopping.”

“Oh,” Steve murmured, stumbling to a halt at Tony’s side. He tugged on Tony’s sweatpants. “Are you ok? You look sad.”

“I’m just disappointed that the coffee maker is a dinosaur,” Tony sighed. He set his bag of down on the counter and then looked around for the outlet he knew was there. He found it easily enough but had to force himself to ignore the urge to strip the place down and rewire it in order to plug the grinder in.

“I don’t get it,” Steve said, his hands migrating to his hips. “Dinosaurs died a long time ago.”

“That’s the point,” Tony said, ruffling Steve’s hair. “It means that the coffee machine is very, very, _very_ old.”

“Oh,”

“It’s sad but true. Maybe I should buy a new one – I think they have a crappy little store in town,” Tony mused, dumping a handful of beautifully roasted beans into the grinder. Even if the coffee maker was shit, the grinder would smooth things along; this, he mused to himself, was the closest he had ever been to camping.

“There’s a general store on Second Street that might have a coffee machine in stock if you’re lucky,” Coulson said, sliding his eggs from the pan and onto a plate. He cracked a few more into the pan, looking over his shoulder at Steve, giving the kid a smile. “Do you want some toast, sport?”

Steve shuffled closer to Tony. “ _No_ ,”

Tony was fairly certain that for a second there, Coulson looked like he might start crying; the look vanished almost before Tony could figure out if he was hallucinating or not.

Tony turned the coffee grinder on so that it would drown out his chuckles, hoping it would help him to avoid getting clubbed in the head with a hot frying pan. “I’ll have some toast,” he half-yelled over the sound of the coffee grinder. He took a moment to pat Steve’s head as he watched the beans vanish into dust, trying not to snort when Couslon’s back went rigid at the sound of his voice. “I like toast. Toast is good, isn’t it Steve?”

“Yes. I like toast too,” Steve said solemnly, squinting up at the counter. “What are you doing?”

“I’m grinding up the coffee beans I brought with me,” Tony said. He opened up the coffee pot and showed Steve the filter nestled inside. “You put the coffee grounds in here, and then hot water goes through it to make coffee. I’m simplifying the steps of course because they’re boring, but you get what I mean, right?”

“Yes,” Steve said with a nod.

“I’ll make extra toast then I guess,” Coulson said, staring down at the bacon he was frying.

Tony smirked to himself.

He winced when Coulson ‘accidentally’ hit him in the shoulder with the greasy flipper.

 

 

Silver Shell was the kind of place people would take pictures of in order to make cheesy homemade postcards. It was a rustic sort of town, where the buildings were all white-washed and painted in varying shades of blue and green; there were anchors and seashells stenciled onto everything. The place had embraced the sea wholeheartedly, and that wasn’t likely to change any time soon. Hell, the _streetlights_ were shaped like clam shells. The streets were still made out of cobblestones, and they were probably the same ones the town founders had used back when horses were the one and only mode of transportation; it was clean and all, but it still looked like one wrong step might send them back in time to the 1900’s.

They went to the general store first at Tony’s insistence; the place was called Beatie’s Boutique, and the first step through the front door made it clear that this was a place where things went to die. There wasn’t any dust on the boxes or shelves, but when Tony picked up a ceramic cat, there was a lovely circle of grime winking up at him. He pursed his lips. “Great.”

“Tony?” Steve called out from behind him. Tony turned around, setting the ceramic cat back down gingerly when he noticed the death glare the woman at the till was giving him.

“Yeah?”

“Can I go look at the books?”

“Sure buddy – just stay in sight, ok?”

“Ok,” Steve scampered off, scooting along a row of plates and spoons adorned with cheerful sunflowers.

Tony sighed, turning back to the task at hand. “Now where would I be if I was a coffee machine?” He kept an eye on Steve as he slipped down an aisle marked ‘breakfast nook goodies’, finding himself surrounded in egg beaters, flour sifters and serving platters – and there, at the end of the aisle, was a _gorgeous_ looking coffee maker – with a timer and _everything_. Oh god – he was going to _cry_. It was new – from this _century_ even. He shimmied closer, afraid of scare it off, and lifted it up, instantly relieved when he found out that it wasn’t just an empty box. “Hello _beautiful_!”

Coulson glanced around the store and then stalked through the aisle towards Tony, stopping a few inches away from him. “You left him alone?”

Tony wanted to bang his head on the nearest shelf; he probably would have if the lady at the till hadn’t been watching him like he was a ragged alley cat she was _knew_ was going to start pissing on everything in range. “Phil, he’s _fine_. He’s looking at the books. I can see him from here.”

“He’s _seven_ , Tony,” Coulson said softly, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s seven, and you just let him _wander_ off alone.”

“He asked for permission and I gave it to him. He’s a smart kid – he’s not going to run off on us,” Tony said, wiggling his way past Coulson with the brand new coffee maker clutched to his chest like it was his first born child. “Let the kid live a little. It’s safe here. You said so yourself.”

Coulson shook his head. “I don’t see how you can be so nonchalant about this.”

“Phil,” Tony sighed, turning to face Coulson, “Calm down. He’s _fine_.” He walked the coffee maker over to the till and set it down, pulling out his wallet. “Steve? You done, buddy?”

“Coming!” Steve scampered towards the till, nimbly avoiding Coulson much to his apparent dismay. He held up a book, gnawing on his lower lip. “Can we get this too, please?”

“Sure,” Tony said with a smile. “Put it up on the counter.”

“’kay,” Steve went up on his tiptoes, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, and put the book beside the coffee maker; that particular copy wouldn’t have been Tony’s first choice considering it was kind of beat-up, but Steve seemed to have taken a liking to it, so he squashed down the urge to put it back.

The woman at the till smiled at Steve. “ _The Three Musketeers_ is an excellent choice sweetheart,” she said, ringing up the book and coffee maker. Steve grinned up at Tony, holding on to the edge of the counter with one hand, still standing on his tip-toes.

“Agreed,” Tony said. All in all the trip had only set him back sixty bucks, although judging by the frown on Coulson’s face that was sixty bucks too much. Man, he thought, someone needed to unclench for a while.

“Your son is adorable,” the woman said, putting the coffee maker into a plastic bag. She handed Steve the book, seemingly pleased by the way he leaned closer to Tony’s leg after accepting it. “You and your husband have done a great job with him.”

Tony spent a full three seconds wondering what the fuck she was talking about before he clued in; not missing a beat he grinned at her, nudging Coulson in the side with his elbow. “Oh, you know. We try, but I think it’s all him, really. He’s just a sweet kid.”

“Are you here on your honeymoon?” The woman asked, leaning against the counter; the cranky biddy from earlier was gone, replaced with a cheerful older lady that might have graced the covers of readers digest. “We get a lot of honeymooners here. It’s a very romantic town, isn’t it?”

Tony tried not to burst out laughing when Coulson started sputtering beside him. “That it is, but no, we’re just here on a family vacation. We both got some unexpected time off work and thought it would be a good idea to take our son out for some beach house living,” Tony said, resting a hand on Coulson’s shoulder.

The woman nodded in agreement, counting out Tony’s change. “Oh you’re right about that. The off season is the best time to get some privacy around here. There’s not much to do, granted, but it’s a great place to bring the family for a break. Your little guy will just _love_ the beach – we’ve got a sale on sandcastle toys by the way,” she said, nodding towards an aisle across from them. “It’s 7.96 for a set.”

Steve looked up at Tony again, his eyes wide with wonder. “Can we?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Sure – go pick something out,”

Steve practically dove towards the toys, his book still clutched tightly in hand as he dug through the pile of colourful plastic shovels and buckets.

“You’re spoiling him, _honey_ ,” Coulson said, shaking his head at Tony.

“Oh relax, _darling_ ,” Tony said, fishing another ten out of his wallet. He put it on the counter. “At least we’ve got the chance to get him some extras now before we forget about them again.”

“I guess,”

The woman chuckled. She broke the ten and gave Tony back his change. “Believe me, they’re worth the investment. My granddaughter has some and she’s been building sand castles with them all year long. They’re good quality – they don’t break as easily as some of the other brands.”

Tony nodded, taking the coffee maker off the counter as Steve returned with his forage in hand; everything was nestled within a mesh bag, safely arranged for travel. The tools were a deep golden yellow and hot-rod red. Tony chuckled at the choice, wiping away an imaginary tear when Coulson caught his eye. “Let’s go put this stuff in the car, ok?”

“Ok,” Steve said, following Tony towards the door. He reached up as they got out onto the street, wrestling his things into his other hand and took Tony’s hand in his, holding it as they walked towards their rental car. Coulson followed after them, casually eyeballing the people on the street, his hands tucked in his pockets.

“So have you ever seen the beach before yesterday?” Tony asked, as he popped the trunk open. He juggled the coffee maker and stuffed it into the trunk with Steve’s things, packing everything away with ease.

Steve shook his head. “Ma doesn’t get a lot of time off. We were supposed to go to Coney Island on my birthday, but she had to cancel again because she had to work overtime. Bucky’s Ma offered to take me, but Ma wanted to us to do it together.” He looked sadly down at his feet. “Do you think she’d be mad at me for seeing it without her?”

Tony dropped to his knees, resting his hands on Steve’s shoulders. “No, honey, I don’t think she’d be mad. I think she’d be happy that you got to come all the way out here to see the beach with us. Sure, there’s no carnival rides around like on Coney Island, but you’ve got nice clean water to swim in,” Tony said, trying not to grimace at the thought of so much water waiting outside his bedroom.

“Really?”

“Really,” Tony said, letting Steve go. He dusted his hands off on his pant legs and stood up. “Let’s go get our groceries, alright? The sooner we get that done, the sooner we can go make some sandcastles, right?”

Steve grinned. “Right!”

“Alright, so let’s go!” Tony took Steve by the hand, slamming the trunk shut. He gave the security lock an extra press to double check that it was still on and led them across the street towards the town’s only grocery store.

Coulson trailed behind them like a stray dog.

 

 

Tony was mildly impressed; sure, the store was small, but it had quite the selection. He led Steve down the breakfast foods aisle and let the little guy pick out his favourite box of cereal before hitting up the instant coffee section. He was going to have to ration the good stuff – a few cans of crap wasn’t going to be too hard to swallow, at least not when he had an ample supply of sugar and cream at his disposal. He ignored the way Coulson frowned at everything he put into their basket and ushered Steve down the snack foods aisle, picking out crackers, cookies and everything else that looked even mildly appetizing. By the time they reached the bread aisle, Coulson was hunched over, clutching his head, looking a little like he was suffering through a migraine.

“Let’s get two loaves this time,” Tony said, picking the fluffiest white bread he could find. Sure, the stuff was nutrition free, but it was good for feeding the wildlife if it got a little crusty, and he had a feeling there were quite a few sea birds out there ready and waiting to be fed by a certain little boy.

“Did you really have to buy so much?” Coulson asked as they lugged their groceries back to the car. In hindsight, he had probably gone a little overboard on the groceries this time, Tony mused, but at least this way they would all have something to eat that didn’t taste like cardboard.

“Its fine, Phil,” Tony grunted, packing everything away with Steve’s help. “Besides, you and I both know you love ice cream. It’s not my fault we needed to buy three different flavors.”

Coulson sighed wearily, hanging his head. “Stark,”

“Nuh huh,” Tony said, prodding Coulson in the shoulder. “ _Husbands_ don’t call each other by their last names, remember?”

“Oh god,” Coulson groaned, putting his head in his hands.

“You know,” Tony said, opening the car door. He got Steve into his car seat, smirking the entire time. “I don’t know why I even married you. You’re such a grump,”

“I hate you,” Coulson said, getting into the driver’s seat.

“Aww,” Tony said, blowing him a kiss before he got into the passenger’s seat, “I love you too.”

 

 

Tony plopped himself down onto the beach chair he had found under the porch and watched idly as Steve gathered rocks for his sandcastle. He had a tablet resting on his knee, and a can of lemonade in hand; it was a good day, even though it was a little too bright for his taste. He sipped at his lemonade, flicking through schematics for a new archery training room, trying to ignore the way Coulson was lurking in the distance.

“You going to come over here at some point, Phil? Or are you going to keep leering at me from a distance?”

Coulson sat down in the sand beside Tony, frowning – as usual – when he saw what Steve was doing. “You’re letting him dig in the dirt?”

“He needs rocks,” Tony said with a shrug, not looking up from his tablet. “How the hell else is he supposed to get them if he doesn’t dig for them? Did you _want_ him wandering out into the surf without water wings and a lifejacket?”

“No,”

“Then stop complaining,”

Coulson sighed, rubbing sand off of his cheek with his palm. “You know, out of the two of us, I didn’t expect you to be the one he bonded with,”

“Oh?” Tony fixed a line on the wireframe of a new bot with a flick of his thumb and gritting his teeth. He knew what was coming; he was surprised it had taken this long for Coulson to come out and say it.

“The Captain didn’t like you,”

Aaaaand there it was. Tony tried not to let it get to him. It didn’t work. “Yeah, I know that,” he growled, looking up sharply. “Does this have a point? Or is this just ‘tell Tony things he already knows’ day? Because I thought that was later in the year. I swear, Clint sent me a card and everything – I’m pretty sure I had Jarvis put it on my calendar and everything.”

Coulson snorted, digging a shell out of the sand. “That sounds like something he would do,”

Tony turned his attention back to his tablet. “Good. Then I’m assuming this conversation is over.”

“He really likes you,” Coulson grumbled, tossing the shell away. “I don’t get it.”

“No one gets it,” Tony muttered. He wondered if he could get away with putting in ear plugs. Pepper would have swatted him, but Pepper was in New York; she would have had to be psychic to figure it out from this distance.

“I mean, I talk to him all the time,” Coulson continued, watching Steve scoot along the coastline a few feet away dumping shells and pebbles into his plastic bucket. “We get along. So why doesn’t he like me?”

“Maybe you smell funny,” Tony said, glancing between Steve and his tablet. “Kids don’t like people sometimes. It happens – suck it up, Super Nanny. You’ve watched the shows – why are you even telling me about this shit?”

“I like kids.”

“That’s nice,”

“I mean, one day, I want to have one of my own,” Coulson said. “I want to get married - and you’re right. I don’t know why I’m telling you anything.” He stood up, heading towards the house and then to Tony’s surprise, he came stomping back, sitting down in the sand again. “It doesn’t even bother you that they think we’re a gay couple, does it?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “And why would that bother me?”

“Because you’re into women,”

“I am. I’m also into men.”

“You are?” Coulson looked surprised; it was a strange expression, one Tony had never seen on the agent before. He wasn’t sure he liked the look of it.

“I’m amazed that Natasha didn’t spill the beans already,” Tony muttered, moving onto another file. He wasn’t going to be able to build anything for a few months, but he could at least stockpile blueprints for when he was done – anything to avoid a conversation with Phil Coulson about his sex life.

“If I didn’t know, she didn’t know,”

“Her mistake then,” Tony shrugged.

“She doesn’t _make_ mistakes,”

“Well, then I guess I’m a bit more crafty than you give me credit for, aren’t I?” Tony set his tablet down on the chair behind him, getting up. “Hey,” he said as Steve returned, dragging his pail of goodies behind him. “You got enough stuff?”

“Uh huh,” Steve grunted, dumping the pail at Tony’s feet. “Can you help me build it?”

“Sure,” Tony said, dropping down to his knees. The sand was blissfully soft; his back only complained a little. “How big do you want to build it?”

“Big,” Steve said solemnly.

“Alright – let’s get cracking then,” Tony said with a grin. He picked up one of the plastic buckets and held it out, showing it to Steve. “So, first we pack the bucket with sand,”

“Ok,” Steve said, picking up another bucket. He started scooping sand with his finger, dumping handfuls in it, watching as Tony did the same with his bucket. “Like this?”

“Yep. Just like that,”

Steve grinned. “Now what?”

“Now we flatten a space out the sand where we want to build the castle – that way it stays standing longer,” Tony said.

Coulson smiled at Steve, inching closer across the sand until he was sitting beside Tony. “Can I help?”

“No,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Tony’s helping me.”

Coulson sighed. He watched them work for a few minutes before getting up and dusting himself off. “I’m going to go make dinner,”

“Ok,” Tony said, helping Steve put up the first tower. “See you later,”

“Yeah,” Coulson said, heading towards the beach house, “see you later.”

 

 

Dinner was quiet; Tony hadn’t expected it to be that noisy to begin with considering how well behaved Steve was ninety percent of the time, but he had at least expected Coulson to ask a few questions about their sandcastle architecture. He eyed Coulson over the bowl of mashed potatoes, and received a tired stare in return.

Steve finished his last bite of meatloaf and set his fork down on his plate, looking around the table slowly before locking eyes with Tony.

“You can go play if you want,” Tony said, pushing his chair back so that he could stand up. He patted his stomach and decided to sit for a few more minutes; he hadn’t been this full in a long time. Maybe being fake-married to Coulson wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Can I help with dishes?” Steve asked, leaning against the table.

“You’re weird,” Tony said, sticking his tongue out at Steve.

Steve giggled. “I am not,”

“You are too,”

“Am _not_!”

“Are _too_!”

Coulson stood up, collecting their plates from the table without saying a word. He carried everything to the sink and started putting away the leftovers, separating everything into different containers so that nothing made of vegetables touched anything made of meat.

Tony heaved himself upright and pushed in his chair. “Why don’t you go colour for a bit, buddy? We can do the breakfast dishes together tomorrow morning. I need to have some adult time with Phil.”

Steve looked disappointed, but he nodded and wandered off to his bedroom, leaving Tony and Coulson alone.

Tony leaned his hip against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “So I take it you’re mad,”

“I’m not mad,” Coulson said, slicing up the last of the meatloaf. He put his knife down and calmly put the perfectly divided meatloaf hunks into a plastic container, counting them as he went. “Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know – why don’t you tell me?”

“I’m not mad. This is _me_ , telling _you_ , that I’m not mad,” Coulson snapped, stuffing the containers of leftovers into the fridge. “So, no. I’m not mad.”

“I’m hearing a lot of anger here, Phil,”

“Just _quit it_ , Stark,” Coulson growled, turning on the water. He calmly rinsed his hands, scrubbing grease off of his fingernails.

“So you’re _not_ mad at me?”

Coulson whirled, spraying Tony with lukewarm water. “I _said_ I wasn’t mad, didn’t I?”

“So you’re mad at Clint then?”

Coulson’s mouth snapped shut. He turned around, grabbing the soap; he squeezed the bottle a little too hard, sending yellowy liquid all over the splash board. He stared at the mess, still clutching the soap bottle and then broke, putting his head in his hands. “He hadn’t checked in for over seven hours,”

“I know,” Tony said softly, picking up a dishcloth. He curled it in his hands, winding it around his fingers. “Jarvis already pinged me.”

“He’s got one of the LMD Steve’s,” Coulson muttered, staring into the sink. “He offered to take the fucking thing because he didn’t want to be here with me.”

“Lover’s spat?”

“I asked him if he wanted to marry me,”

“Oh,” Tony looked down at the floor. The last time he had seen Clint, the archer had looked a little like he had swallowed an entire bag of lemons. “Shit. Well I guess that explains everything,”

“Yeah, _shit_ , I guess it does,”

Tony shook his head. He had known Clint and Coulson were close, but he hadn’t known they were dating; Clint had always been pretty flippant about what dating meant, and Coulson… well, Tony hadn’t really thought Coulson was interested in other _humans_ that way. The guy liked paperwork far too much to be romantic, or so he had thought. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, slowly unwinding the dish towel from his hand.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Coulson murmured, shutting off the water. “He’s off the grid. He has the panic button you made him – it’s his decision what happens next.” He picked up the first plate from the pile and started scrubbing at it with a scrub brush, tackling the caked on gravy and potatoes.

“I can turn it on remotely you know,” Tony murmured. “I mean, if you want…”

“No,” Coulson said, handing Tony the dripping wet plate. “I trust him. Turning it on means I don’t, and I won’t do that to him. He’s earned that.”

“You’re ok not knowing?” Tony cocked his head to the side. If it was him waiting on someone like that, he wasn’t so sure he’d have taken the same route. Not knowing was something he had never been very good at; he had spent far too much of his childhood not knowing what his father was thinking, not knowing where his mother was and not knowing if he was going to end up at the same school again the next year. He hated not knowing things.

“I’m not ok,” Coulson said, picking up the next plate, “But I respect him, and I’m going to keep my word. He didn’t want to be here, and there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“Oh my god,” Tony nearly dropped the plate he was trying to stuff into the cupboard one handed, “this was supposed to be you two, wasn’t it?” He looked down at the counter, staggered by the realization. He had wondered why he had been the one they had picked to go with Steve as part of his security entourage; he wasn’t exactly the guy _he_ would have picked as a bodyguard if he had been the one needing one. Out of the suit, well, _Steve_ had put it best – he was a big man in a suit of armor. Take that away and all you had was a bag of money with a bad ticker and questionable people skills. This had probably been Coulson’s idea of a trial family – getting Clint and Steve out here, seeing how things went. He could just see it now – Clint and Coulson holding hands while Steve splashed about in the water beside them.

Shit, he had ruined that without even realizing it.

“It would have been Clint, yes,” Coulson said slowly, scrubbing at the pot he had used to boil the potatoes, “but we had to factor in Steve’s decision too, you know.”

Tony snorted. “Steve would have thrown me into traffic before deciding to let me anywhere near his child-self.”

“I’m not so sure that’s true anymore,”

“Oh?” Tony plucked a plate out of the drying rack, glaring at it. “Somehow I think he would have approved of Natasha or Clint being here in my place. _Me_? I’m a flashy, boozing, selfish asshole. Hydra could probably take me out with a toothpick, and they’re incompetent.”

“To be fair,” Coulson said, smiling softly at Tony, “ _I_ could take you out with dental floss. Toothpicks are easy.”

“Oh, I feel _so_ much better now,”

“Steve likes you,” Coulson set the pot down in soapy water to soak. “We gave him a choice of who to take with him, and he picked you, hands down. It was either you and me or you and someone else. Frankly, I came along just because I thought you were going to be awful at this, but I guess I read things wrong,”

“You don’t know that,” Tony snorted. “For all you know I could have a case of beer stashed in the trunk of my car. I could be drunk by morning – hell, I think I _want_ to be drunk right now.”

“I’m serious,” Coulson said, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder. It was wet and soapy, but firm – reassuring even. Tony wanted to shrug it off, not sure he could live up to what that grip meant.

“Look, I get that you’re trying to be nice,” Tony grumbled.

“I’m not. Frankly, I was an asshole. I know it – you know it – hell, _Steve_ knows it and he’s only seven,” Coulson muttered, “but this is the way it worked out, and we’ve got to make the best of it. Besides, this way I get to be married, right? That’s once in a lifetime.”

Tony swallowed down a sarcastic quip, drowning it before it could reach air. “Right.”

“And now I can safely say I’ve actually told someone I’m gay,” Coulson chuckled, draining the sink and filling it with hot water again. “He’s going to be proud of me – assuming of course that he wants to get within ten feet of me when he gets back.”

“The fight was that bad?”

“Worse. He doesn’t think much of marriage – doesn’t believe people can love each other enough to stick together forever. I guess I jumped the gun a little. I just…” Coulson sighed wearily, picking up his scrub brush. “I wanted to see what the future would be like.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “God, I _hope_ this isn’t the future. I’m far too beautiful to be married to your ugly ass,”

Coulson chuckled. “Oh please. We both know how good I look in a suit.”

“Pfft – as if. You’ve got the whole office worker chic thing going on, but I’m far more stylish. I look good in anything. You haven’t seen me in lingerie yet. I look _good_.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Stark,”

“I tell that to myself every night before I go to sleep,” Tony said, winking at Coulson. “Believe me, I know.”

 

 

Tony woke to the feeling of something warm and heavy lying on his chest. He got an eyeful of blonde hair when he tried to force himself to get up; he gave up after a few seconds of blindly patting the mattress, closing his eyes again. Oh well. Sleep it was. He dozed as he listened to the soft, raspy snores of the seven year old sleeping on him.

“Stark?” Coulson poked his head into Tony’s room, looking around. “Oh – _there_ he is.”

“What, you _lost_ him?” Tony mock gasped.

Steve continued to sleep, oblivious to the anxiety he had caused his caretakers.

Coulson rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I _misplaced_ him. That’s totally different,”

“Right,”

“I guess he got scared during the night, huh?” Coulson lounged against the doorframe, eyeing Steve from a distance.

“Well,” Tony mumbled, sitting up slowly so that Steve didn’t wake, “I’m a walking night light. I’m not surprised he found his way here.” Steve slid down Tony’s chest, tangling in the blankets; Tony scooped him up and wrapped him up properly, tucking him in again before he could be woken by the change in temperature. The kid was smiling in his sleep; thankfully his bladder was more than willing to help make the decision to get up for him. When he remerged from the bathroom Steve was still sleeping peacefully where he had left him, although he was now burrowed underneath the blankets like a mole.

Tony chuckled to himself, taking that as his cue to go look for breakfast. He slipped out of his room and into the kitchen where he found Coulson standing in front of the stove wearing the frilliest apron he had seen in his entire life; Coulson was making chocolate chip and banana pancakes, and Tony was fairly certain this was what heaven was going to smell like.

Tony picked up a banana peel and dumped it into the compost bin by the sink, watching Coulson make ridiculously perfect circles out of pancake batter. “So, what are we doing today?” he asked, debating on whether it was a smart idea or not to lunge at the one finished pancake.

Coulson seemed to notice; he pushed the plate away from Tony’s hand and started flipping the rest of the pancakes as they turned a delightful shade of golden brown. “Hands off,”

“Meanie. You’re the worst husband ever,” Tony grumbled, still eyeing the pancakes.

Coulson snorted. “I’m making you pancakes. You’re the _worst_ husband. All you do is eat me out of house and home.” He laughed when Tony raised an eyebrow at him. “A poor choice of words, yes, but you know what I mean.”

“Sure. We’ll pretend I do.”

“I was thinking of taking Steve down to the farmers market they’ve got running today,” Coulson said, setting a pancake down on top of the first. He prodded the third until he was happy with its placement in the pan. “They’ve got a bunch of kids stuff there – and I’ve gone through the itinerary with Natasha and Jarvis already. We’re clear – no one’s close, and she’ll have an eye on us the entire time.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tony messed up the forks Coulson had so neatly set out, casually placing them on the table before he could get swatted with the greasy flipper. “He’ll probably love the craft stands. I’ve heard they’ve got plenty of Popsicle sticks and glue. Children apparently like those,”

“You looked it up, didn’t you?” Coulson peered over his shoulder at Tony; he frowned when Tony flipped all of the forks upside down and stalked over, flipping them right side up.

“Of course I did,” Tony said with a shrug.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I guess,”

“Do you like him?”

“Who?” Tony said, absently, arranging glasses beside the plates. He looked over at the door to his bedroom, pursing his lips. He wondered if he could leave without being dragged back into the kitchen by his hair.

“Steve,”

“What about Steve?” Tony asked, sitting down.

“Do you like him?”

“I guess,” Tony said. “He’s a sweet kid.”

“No – I mean, _Adult_ Steve,” Coulson said. He put the plate of pancakes on the table, fishing the margarine and syrup out of the fridge. He set them down on the table, fixing the positioning again and again until he was satisfied with it and then sat down in the chair beside Tony, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. “I know you guys didn’t get along, but did you like him?”

Tony frowned. “I guess. I never really thought about it. I mean, he was always mad at me – it was kind of hard to be chummy with the guy when he was busy screaming in my face.”

“That wasn’t entirely his fault though,”

“I guess not,” Tony grunted. He planted his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand. Their fights hadn’t been _all_ Steve’s fault, even if he had been the one to start most of them; he was willing at admit that much. “Why does everyone keep asking me this shit? Am I missing something here?”

“I don’t know,” Coulson said, turning to look behind him at Tony’s bedroom door. “I suppose the real question isn’t if you liked him. It’s more, do you think he’ll remember _any_ of this?”

“God I hope not,” Tony muttered, closing his eyes. The last thing he wanted was Steve being all noble about everything; he didn’t want to earn a friend because of _pity_ – out of some kind of warped sense of duty. He had had quite enough people like that in his lifetime, thank-you-very-much. He didn’t need anyone else to pretend to be his friend; he could pay people to do that. “Let’s just get through today, alright? We can think about the epic disaster this is going to be later when we’re at home in the tower putting our feet up and drinking margaritas.”

“You’d better go wake him up then Mr. Popular,” Coulson said dryly, nodding towards Tony’s bedroom.

Tony sighed and stood up, pushing his chair back with a grimace. Today was going to be a _long_ day.

 

 

The farmers market was nice; Steve had enjoyed it so much they had gone home to the beach house with a giant bag of Popsicle sticks and enough glue to appease his newfound need to build things. Tony hadn’t minded that part all too much. To be fair, he had been rubbing his hands together in glee ever since, but that was beside the point. He helped Steve build a replica of the Tower, and then they spent the afternoon building houses to go around it, making themselves a city all of their own design.

By the time night fell again, Tony was exhausted. He lay sprawled across the couch, staring up at the stucco ceiling, trying to work up the energy to get up and take Steve to bed; Steve was lying on his stomach on the floor with his head resting on a pillow Tony had wrestled free from the couch and stuffed under him. It didn’t look comfortable in the least, but the kid was out like a light, softly snoring into the shag carpeting.

Coulson yawned, stretching out in his chair. He closed the book he had been reading aloud to Steve, setting it down on the coffee table. “Stark? You awake?”

Tony grunted instead of responding, letting his eyelids droop shut again.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” Tony mumbled into the couch cushions. “You pick.”

“There’s a water park in town that’s supposed to be nice. Maybe we can go there – Natasha made sure Steve packed swimming trunks,”

“Ok,”

“You should probably get up,”

“Ok,”

“I should probably get up too,”

“Yep,”

Coulson yawned again, struggling upright after a few minutes of sleepy silence. “Alright,” he said, giving himself a bit of a shake. He tugged on Tony’s arm, forcing Tony to roll over and face him. “Carry him to bed, will you?”

“Yes dear,” Tony yawned.

Coulson smiled and flicked Tony in the ear. “Nice try,”

“Can’t blame a guy for sweet-talking his husband,” Tony muttered, cracking a grin. He stood up, reluctantly leaving the warmth of the couch behind in order to stoop down and pull Steve into his arms. The kid grumbled something unintelligible and curled closer to Tony’s chest, bumping his cheek against the arc reactor. He blinked awake as Tony carried him into his bedroom, rolling laxly into bed when Tony set him down.

“What’s that?” Steve asked, trying to point a finger at the arc reactor. It didn’t quite work, but he seemed satisfied with the results when Tony sat down on the edge of the bed beside him and lifted his shirt up, revealing the arc reactor; Tony had been wearing a dampener for a while now, hiding the light to keep suspicions at bay, but it hadn’t seemed necessary here with Steve and Coulson keeping him company. It occurred to him that this was the first time Steve had actively pointed the reactor out; he wondered why the kid hadn’t said anything. Most adults didn’t have a shining blue circle embedded in their chest after all – he had figured Steve would have, well, _asked_ about it by now.

“It’s an arc reactor,” Tony said, picking his words carefully. Even with those sleepy eyes, he knew Steve was smart enough to figure things out on his own if giving the right information. “I built it to help with my heart trouble.”

Steve’s eyes snapped open. He sat upright so fast Tony was surprised the little guy hadn’t given himself whiplash. “You have heart trouble?”

Tony sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. Great. He was getting _far_ too good at starting awkward conversations these days. “I was kidnapped a few years ago,” he started, wondering just how much he should say. He decided to shorten the story, to keep Steve as far away from nightmares as possible. “A bomb exploded when I was near it, and I got a chest full of shrapnel. Do you know what that means?”

“No,” Steve said, looking worried. He reached out and then hesitated, drawing his hand back quickly.

“Shrapnel is a collection of bits of metal – when something explodes, it turns into pieces, right? Well those pieces went into my chest and they’re trying to work their way into my heart. The reactor powers an electromagnet that keeps that from happening.”

“Are you going to die?” Steve’s lower lip quivered. His eyes watered. “I don’t want you to die.”

“No, no,” Tony said quickly, startled by the sudden tears. “I’m not going to die. I’m fine – as long as the reactor is working, I’m fine.”

“Do you promise?” Steve wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Do you?”

“I promise,” Tony said, stroking Steve’s hair. He tapped the glass centre of the reactor. “It won’t break.”

“Are you sure?”

“I built it, remember? The stuff _I_ build doesn’t break _that_ easily,”

“Can I touch it?”

“Sure,” Tony smiled. Steve was so careful when he reached out and finally touched the reactor; it looked like he was trying to touch a butterfly’s wings rather than a manmade work of genius. It was weird. The kid’s fingers were so damned _small_. Steve’s entire _hand_ could cover the centre of the arc reactor, but even then light still spilled free between his fingers. Did _all_ little kids have fingers that small? Or was it just Steve? He sat still while Steve traced felt his way along skin and metal at the reactor’s edge.

“It’s pretty,” Steve said after a while, finally looking away from the reactor. He pulled his hand back and covered his mouth as he yawned, his eyes drooping momentarily shut.

Tony pulled his shirt back on and stood up, yawning into his hand. “I like it too. It’s a good night light.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, rubbing his eyes. “Do I have to go to sleep now?”

“Yep,”

“Do I _have_ to?”

“Sadly, yes. Are you ok brushing your teeth alone?” Tony hovered in the doorway.

“I _guess_ ,” Steve sighed loudly, hanging his head.

“Alright,” Tony chuckled. “Go do that.”

“Will you tuck me in after?” Steve asked quietly, looking up to lock eyes with Tony.

Tony sighed dramatically. “If you insist,”

Steve grinned sleepily and heaved himself up off the bed. “I’ll be right back,”

“Alright. I’m going to go get into my pajamas,” Tony called out, stepping out of the room. He made his way to his bedroom and found his pajamas in a pile on his pillow, neatly folded. Damn Coulson. “The step stool is still in the bathroom, right?”

“Yes,” Steve yelled from the bathroom.

“Ok – remember to brush your teeth!” Tony yelled back.

“Can I use your toothpaste? Mine tastes yucky.”

“Sure,”

Tony changed into his pajamas, stretching out across his bed afterwards. It was nice here; he would give it that much. Yeah, they were in the middle of nowhere, and sure, there was shitty wi-fi for everyone else, but it wasn’t _bad_. He rolled over and sat up again, plucking his tablet off the bedside table. “Hey Jarvis, you up?”

“Always, sir,” Jarvis said. His voice was crystal clear, even though his main systems were miles and miles away.

“Do me a favor – check up on everyone for me, alright?”

“Who would you like me to start with, sir?”

“Your choice,”

“Miss Potts is currently in a meeting with shareholders, attempting to push forward your design for the newest phone search engine algorithm,” Jarvis said. “Colonel Rhodes is still unavailable due to being in radio silence, although he has left multiple messages for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony sighed. If Rhodey had left more than one message, he was probably pissed off; usually he just left the one and then texted relentlessly until Tony answered him. “I’ll listen to it later. What’s going on with the rest of the team? How’s Bruce holding up?”

“Doctor Banner reports that he is still safely hidden with his LMD model of Steve, sir. He says he hasn’t been approached yet, as Thor has been with him in the tower the entire time, but he believes that Hydra has been tracking his movements.”

“Unsurprising,”

“Indeed. However, I am afraid I have bad news regarding Mr. Barton,” Jarvis said. He paused before speaking again, likely running through information. “His LMD version of Steve was found a few minutes ago, but he was not with it. Hydra had it in their possession, and they weren’t pleased with it.”

“Shit,” Tony growled. His stomach twisted itself into one massive knot; he tried to steady his breathing, begging himself to keep calm. “What did they do to it?”

“They eviscerated it and hung it from a telephone pole, sir. I’m afraid Mr. Barton is nowhere to be seen. I have tried pinging his emergency beacon, but it appears to be either non-functional or non-existent. I have been unable to locate him using the CCTV cameras in his last known location and there has been no contact between himself and Ms. Romanoff. I’m afraid he’s simply gone, sir.”

Shit. Clint was missing? What the fuck was he supposed to tell Coulson?

Tony set the tablet down on the bedside table. He took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, counting backwards from a thousand by sevens until his vision was no longer blurry. “The emergency beacon in his quiver isn’t working either?” He asked softly, running through scenarios again. They had all known this was a possibility when they had set out to hide Steve from Hydra – they had prepared for this, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow down.

“It is no longer functional. I have been trying to turn it on for the past two hours sir, and there is no response,”

“Great,” Tony put his head in his hands. “So he’s dead?”

“Likely, but unconfirmed,” Jarvis said with a sigh. “Would you like me to inform Mr. Coulson for you?”

“Tony?” Steve called out, sounding confused.

Tony froze; he heard the soft sound of pattering feet and turned to face the door, smiling to keep himself from crying. Steve didn’t need to know yet; it wouldn’t be fair to burden him with something like this. “No, Jarvis,” he whispered. “No, I’ll tell him myself. I owe him that much.”

Steve peeked around the door frame. He was dressed in Captain America pajamas – ones that had been given to him by Coulson as a bribe to win him over again; there was a blob of toothpaste on his cheek, likely forgotten in his rush to get ready for bed. Tony forced himself to stand, moving mechanically towards Steve. He couldn’t help himself; he picked the kid up and hugged him tightly, images of the poor, mangled LMD flittering through his head.

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you ok?”

“No, but I will be,” Tony murmured. He carried Steve into his bedroom, trying not to look into the living room where Coulson was still curled up in his chair; he knew he was going to have to say something– but for now he would bide his time and wait until Steve was asleep. The kid didn’t need the details; the fate of that poor LMD would be enough to put anyone off food for a few weeks. Hell, it was just an LMD and Tony was _already_ having nightmares. He set Steve down on his bed and waited impatiently as Steve burrowed under his blankets, blissfully oblivious.

“Can you stay for a bit?” Steve asked. His blankets were tucked up under his chin, pulled so tight it almost looked uncomfortable.

Tony sat down on the edge of the bed. “Is this ok?”

“No,” Steve said, shaking his head. He wiggled sideways and made room for Tony, lifting up the blankets so there was space for him to crawl in underneath them. “You can sleep here though.”

“What’s wrong? You scared?” Tony smiled softly when Steve nodded. “Alright, I’ll stay, but just for a little bit, ok?”

“Ok,” Steve said, his eyes already shut.

Tony dropped down onto the mattress and lay there quietly, staring up at the ceiling. He listened to the sound of Steve breathing, praying that he wouldn’t _ever_ stop hearing it; he closed his eyes and told himself that he would get up in a minute. Just another minute, and then he would get up and tell Coulson what had happened.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint can't be really gone - can he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for angst :)

“Tony?”

Tony woke with a snort. He looked around wildly until he found the source of the voice looming over him; he melted back into the mattress marginally when he realized that Coulson wasn’t glaring at him. He rubbed his eyes, cursing himself for falling asleep. A glance down told him _precisely_ where he had drifted off, although it hadn’t exactly been a mystery; Steve snored softly into Tony’s chest, his fingers tangled in Tony’s t-shirt like he had needed to anchor himself in his sleep. He wanted nothing more than to pull Steve’s blanket up over his head and go back to sleep – to avoid the entire conversation that was waiting for him – but it wasn’t to be. He could tell by the way Coulson was looking at him that the news had gotten out somehow, although it was clear that Jarvis hadn’t shared everything. He needed to get on with it before things got worse.

He forced himself to stay awake. There was a time and place for quality procrastination, and now was not that time. He stood up sluggishly, smoothly prying Steve’s fingers free from his shirt so that the kid wouldn’t be dragged across the mattress when he stood up. The little guy’s death grip was impressive, and it made Tony all the more aware of just how fragile Steve really was. The mere thought of someone hurting the kid made him sick to his stomach. He wondered idly if this was how parents felt; he wondered if his parents had ever felt this way with him when they had watched him sleep. Nah, it was probably just wishful thinking on his part. He took a minute to tuck Steve in again, gathering his thoughts as he smoothed Steve’s blanket down. He wished there was something he could do to make this disaster of a month go away; he would have given anything to wipe it off the face of the earth – well, to wipe _most_ of it away, anyway. He was fairly certain he would enjoy the memories of Steve being friendly with him till the day he died.

“It’s about Clint, isn’t it?” Coulson’s voice was almost a whisper.

Tony hung his head. Damn secret agents and their secret agent training.

“Alright,” Coulson said, sounding defeated. He walked out of the room backwards, his hands fisted in his pockets.

Tony followed after him, trying to compose himself; he shut Steve’s door and crept into the living room, trying not to make too much noise. He cursed his creaking joints, hating that he was old enough to hear his goddamned knees pop. “Maybe we should do this somewhere else,” he said, scrubbing his hand over his beard.

“It’s that bad, huh?” Coulson murmured. He looked down at his feet, taking in a long, deep breath. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“We’re not sure,”

“So he’s gone off grid? No tracker? No contact?” Coulson walked over to the front door, pulling it open. He gestured for Tony to follow him out and then sat down on the stairs, looking up at the stars.

Tony stepped outside, closing the door carefully behind him; Jarvis would watch Steve, and for now there was nothing to worry about. He sat down on the top step beside Coulson, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Where’s the LMD?” Coulson asked after a while, as though drawn from a dream. He turned from the stars to the sea, his shoulders slumping.

“They took it. Killed it – you _really_ don’t want to know what they did,” Tony said. “I wish _I_ didn’t know.”

“I’m assuming that means they tore it to pieces,” Coulson said with a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We knew it was a likely to happen once they figured out what we were doing. They’re probably mad as hell now. That’s why they took Clint – they wanted vengence.”

“We don’t know if they took him, or if he escaped,” Tony muttered, wishing he had more details. “Barton’s good at what he does. You’re the one who’s always telling me that.”

“He _is_ good,”

“He’s probably fine,”

“He’s probably _dead_ ,” Coulson said matter-of-factly. He put his head in his hands, hunching over. “He’s probably dead.”

“We don’t know that,” Tony said. He rested a hand on Coulson’s back, unsure of what else to do. He had nursed his fair share of grief, but he had never lost someone so close – not since Yinsen. It seemed worse this way, to have to sit and watch someone like Coulson break down; he hadn’t felt this useless in years – not since he had been a child. “He survived Loki’s mind control and a thousand other shitty things, Phil. They won’t take him down this easily,” he said instead of giving in to his own grief. “He’s strong.”

“I don’t know, Tony,” Coulson said, his voice low and gravely. There were tears dripping down his chin now, and while he wasn’t sobbing aloud, his shoulders were shaking from the stress of holding it all inside. “I don’t know anymore.”

“He’ll call in,” Tony said. It wasn’t a lie; at least, he hoped it wasn’t. He shifted closer, wrapping his arm around Coulson’s shoulder, pulling him into a loose hug. “He’ll be alright. It might take him a while to find his way back, but he’ll do it.”

“He’s the one who asked me out. Did you know that?”

“Oh yeah?”

Coulson leaned closer, his shoulder pressing against Tony’s ribs, and rested his head in his hands again. “He brought me a snickers bar from the vending machine – thought he could use it as bribery to get out of doing his paperwork and then when that didn’t work, he told me he’d take me out to dinner and show me a good time. I thought he was joking, but when I looked up,” Coulson sniffled, swallowing hard, “when I looked up he was so _serious_. He just stood there, waiting for me to say something.” He laughed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I turned him down flat. Told him I didn’t appreciate being made fun of.”

“How’d he react to that?”

“He left the office. I didn’t see him for another hour,” Coulson said, smiling crookedly. “I thought he was doing his paperwork. Silly me.” He stared down into his hands, seeming lost for words.

Tony squeezed Coulson’s shoulder; Coulson shook, his head hanging low. He let out a single, agony filled sob and then fell silent again, biting his hand to keep himself from making more noise.

“He brought me dinner,” Coulson whispered after getting control of himself again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He went to that Thai place near the Tower and came rushing back – skinned his knee on the sidewalk in his rush. It was raining,”

“Aww,”

Coulson’s smile turned painful. He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I gave him an Iron Man Band-Aid and tried to send him on his way. He hit me with a bunch of napkins and called me a party pooper.”

“He’s _clearly_ a romantic,”

“I know,” Coulson chuckled. “We were together six years – can you believe that?”

“You’re _still_ together,” Tony murmured gently. “He’s not gone yet.”

“You don’t have to sugar coat it for me, Stark,” Coulson said, staring down at his hands again. “I’ve lost men before – this isn’t the first guy I’ve lost in the line of duty.” He straightened up, but didn’t push Tony’s arm away. “He wouldn’t want me to dwell. We have a job to do, and I know that he wouldn’t want me to break down and cry over him. If they wanted Steve – if they tried to take him, then we need to make sure they don’t get within a foot of the real him. Clint wouldn’t want his loss to be wasted,”

“Agreed,” Tony said with a grimace. He didn’t believe Clint was dead, but he knew that the archer wouldn’t appreciate anyone taking it easy – not after what Hydra had done to that poor LMD. When he got his chance, he was going to make sure they suffered for what they had done to it. It hadn’t deserved to be treated that way.

“I need to talk to Natasha,” Coulson said, standing up. He wiped his eyes again, giving the beach one last look before he stepped back inside, leaving the door open behind him. “We’re starting a rotating watch as of now,” he called out, heading into his room. “You’re up first. I’ll relieve you at dawn.”

Tony got up slowly, bracing himself against the railing. It was going to be a long night, he thought wearily. Well, at least he had gotten that nap.

 

 

 

Tony was exhausted by the time morning decided to show its ugly face. The exhaustion wasn’t anything he hadn’t experienced before, although usually it came after a few days of working in the lab, not after one night of sitting up watching security feeds. His entire body seemed to be aching when he finally crawled into bed, and there was a small part of him that was acutely satisfied with that feeling. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, pulling his blankets up over his head. He prayed that the curtains would be enough to keep the sun out. Two minutes later, his bedroom door creaked open, and Steve stumbled into the room still dressed in his pajamas. The kid clambered up onto the bed, ignoring the way Tony was groaning aloud in protest, and collapsed onto Tony’s back, sprawling like a lazy starfish.

“Are you getting up?”

“I just went to _bed_ ,”

“Why?”

“Go _away_ ,”

“Why?”

“Because I’m _old_ , and I’m _tired_ ,”

“You’re not old,” Steve grumbled,

“I am! I’m old and tired and I want to sleep,” Tony whined. “Go away,”

Steve slid off of Tony’s back. “Really?” he asked in a small voice. He started crawling towards the edge of the bed, hanging his head. “I’m sorry,”

“No, no,” Tony grumbled, hating that Steve had thought he was being kicked out, “It’s ok. I’m not going to chase you off.” He reached out and snagged Steve’s ankle, giving it a gentle tug before letting it go. “You can sit with me for a bit if you want. I’m just really tired, so I’m not going to be a lot of fun,”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, hovering on the edge of the bed. He rolled over when Tony started fake snoring into his pillow and curled up beside him, playing idly with the blankets. After a while he closed his eyes and wriggled closer, lifting Tony’s arm up so he could curl up underneath it. “Ok. I’m going to stay here,”

“Ok,” Tony yawned.

 

 

Tony wasn’t sure how long he was asleep but when he opened his eyes again, it felt like he had been asleep for _days_ ; he rubbed his eyes and moved to sit up, realizing slowly as his muscles started bitching about the movement, that he wasn’t alone in his bed. Steve was curled up beside him, still huddled under his arm, lying with his body turned towards Coulson who was sitting on the other side of the bed with his back to the wall, reading aloud. Tony hadn’t heard a word, but it must have been a good story, because Steve wasn’t quite asleep yet and by the looks of things they had been here for a while.

Coulson looked up when as he finished the page he had been working on. He peered at Tony over top of the book, and smiled, marking his place with his finger. “Hey, look who’s up,”

“Yep,” Tony yawned, stretching out. He was surprised how nice it was to not wake up alone; he hadn’t done this since he and Pepper had broken up, and even then she hadn’t been around _every_ morning – not that he had been there all the time either.

Steve stirred, rolling over to get a good look at Tony’s face. He gave Tony a sleepy smile, his eyes just barely staying open. “We’re reading about Aramis and D’Artagnan,”

“I hope you didn’t finish the book while I was napping,” Tony said. He rubbed his eyes, managing to blink his way through a wave of sleepiness. “How long was I out?”

Coulson turned and looked over at the alarm clock sitting on the table beside him. “It’s been around five hours now,”

“Shit. Do we still have time to take him to the spray park?” Tony knew Steve had been looking forward to the trip, even if they had only just decided to go there on a whim; it was one of the only ways the kid could have fun in water without slipping and drowning, or so Clint had told him when they had still been in the Tower. Natasha had tried to take Steve into the pool on the common floor once and it had not ended well. Steve had never learned how to swim – his asthma hadn’t let him breathe with ease even on a good day, and one look at the pool had sent him running for the elevator like his ass had been on fire.

“Relax – it’s only one in the afternoon,” Coulson said, reaching behind him to find his bookmark, “We’ll take him in a bit. You need to take a shower and then we’ll all eat and go out for a few hours. There’s no rush,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony grumbled. He tried to pull his blanket up over his head and then realized belatedly that Steve was still lying on top of it. Sighing aloud, his plans foiled, he squeezed his eyes shut instead. “Just give me another minute and I’ll be good to go,”

Steve poked Tony in the forehead. “We’re going to make noodles,”

“Ok,” Tony grunted. “Go – make your noodles - _shoo_.” He lifted his arm to let Steve escape and laughed when Steve pulled his arm back down over top of him, refusing to be freed.

Coulson stood up, tucking the book under his arm. “Alright,” he said, patting Steve on the shoulder. “Let’s go, champ. We have to make food, remember? You’re going to cook for Tony, right?”

Steve pouted, but sat up. “Ok,” he said. When Tony patted him on the head he grinned and rolled across the bed towards Coulson, slipping down the side of the mattress. “It’s going to be really good,” Steve insisted, flying towards the door, “I promise!”

Coulson smiled and followed Steve out of the room; for a split second Tony was sure he saw sadness in Coulson’s eyes, but it vanished before he could say anything.

 

 

The ‘noodles’ Steve and Coulson whipped up weren’t exactly perfect considering Steve had been in charge of boiling them, but Tony ate them anyway, chewy bits and all; Steve’s humungous grin made it worth the sore jaw. After lunch they clambered into Tony’s car and drove downtown to the spray park. It turned out to be far bigger than Tony had expected, and the temperature was just right for frolicking; apparently they hadn’t been the only ones with this idea either, because instead of the handful of people he had been assumed would be hanging around, there was a whole _crowd_ of kids waiting for their turn. There were at least fifteen kids scampering around underneath the water sprayers, and while most of the equipment wasn’t in the best of conditions, it did its job well enough to keep the kids thoroughly entertained.

Metal poles topped with flowers and buckets stood guard in centre of the water park; they towered above everyone, adult and child alike, catching Tony’s eye. A group of toddlers were gathered under the flowers waiting patiently, their eyes locked on the trickle of water filling up the bucket. They seemed to know what to look for because the moment the buckets flipped over, too heavy to manage their own weight anymore, the kids jumped out of the way, shrieking in glee as they avoided the blasts of water.

Tony had been around screaming, squealing children before, but the noise here was _staggering_. The little brats seemed to be _everywhere_ ; they ran around in brightly coloured swimming trunks and bathing suits shrieking when water shot up from the ground, weaving in and out of rainbow coloured half-circle sprayers and sprinkler poles.

A metal tugboat drew most of the attention, despite its odd placement in the park. It was sitting off to the side, almost serene looking until you realized that it had a water cannon attached to it; Tony wasn’t surprised that there were so many kids lined up to take turns on it. Why wouldn’t want to spray anything in range? Hell, he was tempted to take a few pot shot from it too. It looked a little bit like a disaster waiting to happen, but the kids didn’t seem to care _who_ was spraying them so long as they ended up soaking wet.

It was a pleasant surprise to find that the spray park was floored with some kind of squishy plastic; when the kids went for an accidental tumble, they simply jumped back up and kept on going, in some cases still laughing at whatever they had been doing beforehand. Tony was pretty sure he and Coulson shared more than a few cringes as they watched Steve join in with the other brats as he went about chasing the spray in his orange water wings and bright blue swimming trunks.

 

Tony ducked out of the way as a sprayer turned on beside him. He retreated to a relatively solid looking bench and sat down, watching Steve wiggle his way through the spray. Part of him wanted to run into the water with the kid, but he knew it was probably a bad idea all things considered. Sure, there were a bunch of other parents around, but none of _them_ seemed like they were that worried about their children being whisked away; he would stand out like a sore thumb, and the last thing he wanted was to draw unnecessary attention. Coulson seemed to feel the same way, because a few minutes later he joined Tony on the bench, lounging casually beside him with his eyes still trained in on Steve.

“I take it you’re trying not to helicopter parent too?” Tony asked, resting his arm on the back of the bench.

Coulson scowled. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“Yep,”

“My mother used to call it being careful,”

“Understandable,” Tony said, with a yawn. He looked around the park, smiling when he spotted Steve playing in a puddle. He took out his phone and set it on his knee, watching Steve’s GPS marker move around on screen; thank god for that holographic display watch. It worked like a charm, even in water. “Well, at least we’re not sitting here blind. Jarvis has eyes on the entire area,”

“You’re sure?”

“Would we be here if I _wasn’t_?”

Coulson scowled. “I talked with Natasha earlier,”

“How’s she holding up?”

“I don’t really know,” Coulson murmured. He coughed and shifted closer on the bench, moving until his thigh was pressed up against Tony’s, leaving a space beside him on his other side. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said as an elderly woman hobbled towards them. The woman gave them a toothy grin. She was short and stick thin, and while she only came up to Tony’s shoulder, she looked like she thought she could singlehandedly take down _Thor_. Her hair was cut short and curled delicately around her ears in a girlish bob. It was dyed a strange shade of whitish pink, likely the result of a botched home-done dye job. Obviously _someone_ was trying to keep hip and cool despite her old age, although the gingham dress she was sporting wasn’t exactly the ‘coolest’ thing around. Her long and bony fingers were wrapped tightly around the straps of her gargantuan purse – _Christ_ , the thing looked like it could have held a bowling ball. It was a miracle she was carrying the thing at all.

“Did you want to sit down?” Coulson asked.

“That would be lovely,” she said, plunking herself down on the bench beside him. She lifted her purse up onto her lap and started hunting around inside it; she came up with a red metal heart-shaped tin. She dropped the bag onto the floor beside her feet, laboriously prying the tin open one inch at a time. Tony almost offered to do it for her. It looked a little like her fingers might snap off from the stress of getting the damned thing open.

“Cookie?” She held the tin out over top of Coulson’s lap, smiling crookedly at Tony.

Tony reached out and took a cookie, trying to be polite. They didn’t look all that great. He took a bite; they didn’t taste any better than they looked, either.

Coulson stood up, patting Tony on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back, honey. I’m going to go help Steve with the water cannon,”

“Aww,” Tony grumbled, watching Coulson weave his way through water sprayers and unsupervised children, “I wanted to do that.” He bit into the cookie again and fought back a gag, covering his mouth with his hand to hide his grimace. Good god – what had the lady made them out of? Baking soda and flour? “This is lovely,” he coughed, forcing himself to swallow down the mouthful of bitter, ash flavored cookie. He looked around, trying to find a convenient place to ‘accidentally drop the cookie’ and then noticed that the woman had a very _familiar_ watch strapped to her wrist. He groaned and threw the cookie into the bushes.

The old woman raised an eyebrow. “That’s not very nice,”

“You know, Nat, you didn’t have to go full-on grandmother,” Tony muttered, wiping cookie crumbs from his lower lip.

Natasha smiled grimly. “I needed to look the part, dear,” she said, closing the cookie container and putting it back into her purse, “They weren’t that bad, were they?”

Tony shuddered. “You didn’t _try_ one first?”

“No,” she said with a frown, “I just put them into the container when they were done.”

Tony snorted. “Maybe you should stick with the store-bought variety from now on,” he said, idly brushing crumbs off of his thumb. He stared down at his phone when he couldn’t immediately spot Coulson and Steve. It wasn’t the one he normally used considering Hydra was tracking that one, but it did connect with his Stark Secure Servers without hassle, so it wasn’t completely useless. “Any news on Barton?” he asked on the off chance that something new had happened.

Natasha shook her head. She kept her gaze locked on Coulson, watching him as he lifted Steve up into the air to help him get a better angle with the spray cannon. There was an almost unhappy expression on her face and despite the holographic display watch’s help, it showed through. “We talked about it all last night,” she said, pursing her lips in displeasure when one of the other kids sprayed Coulson in the back with a water gun. “The details are too limited. I don’t really understand what happened – it came out of the blue. One second Clint was in contact, bitching about the fact that the hotel vending machine didn’t have any twizzlers and the next he was off the grid and his tracker was disabled. I doubt he knew what hit him,”

“Jesus,”

“I doubt Jesus had anything to do with it,” Natasha muttered darkly. “There’s no activity on his cards and nothing on the CCTV footage Jarvis was locked in on. It’s unlikely that he’s alive, but who knows? He’s survived worse.”

“You think Phil believes that?”

Natasha shook her head. “I highly doubt it. He’s a realist, Stark. If Clint was alive, he would have made contact by now – we’re running on a twenty four hour clock-in timer. If he’s alive, he knows he needs to check in.”

“Do you think he ok?” Tony asked, nodding towards Coulson. “I mean – obviously he’s not fine right now – but how was he on the phone?”

“He was… understandably unhappy,”

“Yeah, I knew that part. It’s just… he’s been all smiles today. He doesn’t really seem to be any different,” Tony sighed. “You know me. I’m not a model of perfect mental health, but even I know something’s off. It seems a little… funny to me.”

“I assume you’re asking me if I think he’s still stable,”

“I hate to ask, but yes,”

“You’re right to ask. I’m concerned about him too. He told me last night that he’s planning on keeping Steve unaware of what’s going on,” Natasha said, clasping her hands in her lap. “I’m assuming that’s why he’s all smiles,”

“I guess that makes sense,” Tony muttered. He wondered just how long Coulson’s fake smile was going to last; it was a whole lot easier to hide things from adults than it was from kids, even with the training he had gotten from his professional superspy friends. Kids like Steve were far too good at seeing the little things. One wrong word – one tired look – and Steve would be pointing it out faster than someone spotting a spider in the bathroom at midnight.

Natasha leaned closer, bumping her shoulder ever-so-slightly against Tony’s. “Stop frowning. He’s devoted to keeping the Captain safe,” she murmured under her breath, a smile fixed in place on her lips, “If he thought he couldn’t handle it, he would have passed it off to someone else. He’s a professional.”

“He was in love,” Tony murmured back out of the corner of his mouth. “He asked Clint to marry him before we brought Steve out here and Clint said no – I highly doubt he’s going to be able to handle it well enough to block _that_ out,”

“He _what_?” Natasha turned around so sharply she nearly elbowed Tony in the chest.

“You didn’t know?”

“I knew they were dating,”

“He wanted marriage and a kid,” Tony said, smiling grimly. “This was going to be their trial run.”

“You’re kidding,” Natasha growled. She looked ready to eviscerate the next person who walked up to her.

“You’re going to scare the kids if you keep looking like that,” Tony grumbled, looking back down at his phone. “They’re going to go look for your gingerbread house and then we’ll all be in trouble.”

“You’re a real asshole sometimes, Stark,” Natasha snapped, standing up. She picked up her bag and then dropped it again, sitting down. “He _really_ proposed?”

“He really did,”

Natasha let out a huffed sigh. “He said he was going to wait,”

“Well, apparently he couldn’t wait anymore,”

“He said he was going to tell me before he did it,” Natasha muttered. “I can’t believe he did it,”

“Maybe it just slipped out?”

Natasha tisked. “Nothing with Coulson ever ‘just slips out’. Shit. They’re coming back.”

Steve came charging across the spray park towards them with Coulson in tow; he threw himself onto Tony, roaring, dripping water all over Tony’s phone when he landed awkwardly in Tony’s lap. Tony grimaced and handed Natasha his phone before wrapping his arms around Steve to keep him from tumbling backwards onto the asphalt like a waterlogged piñata.

“Hey slugger,” Tony chuckled, wiping his wet hands on his pants. “Having fun?”

“We played with the cannon! Did you see?” Steve said. He turned around and grinned at Coulson, leaning into Tony’s arms. “We got that guy really good!”

“Oh?” Tony raised an eyebrow, looking at Coulson over Steve’s head. “I take it someone should have been put in the _naughty corner_ ,”

Coulson shrugged. “The kid was spraying people in the face. It seemed like getting hit with a few blasts a fitting punishment,”

“Well, in that case,” Tony said, ruffling Steve’s hair, “You two did good out there!”

“Yeah?” Steve giggled, wiping his hands on Tony’s shirt.

“Yeah,” Tony said, ruffling Steve’s soaked hair. “We’re going to need to get you a towel from the car. You’re like a little jellyfish now.”

“I am not!” Steve grumbled, still grinning.

“You are too,” Tony said, squeezing some of the water out of Steve’s hair.

“You’re so cruel, Stark,” Natasha chuckled.

“Who’s this?” Steve asked, leaning in Tony’s arms to get a better look at Natasha. He seemed ashamed by his behavior for a minute and then went oddly quiet, smiling politely at the stranger. “Hi, ma’am. I’m Steve,” he said, holding his hand out.

Natasha took it and shook it, smiling at Steve. “We’ve met,” she said, standing up. She picked up her bag, handing Tony his phone. “I’ll see you three later. You take care now,”

“See you later _Natalie_ ,” Tony said with a smirk.

Natasha turned around and glared at him. “You three boys behave, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve called out.

Coulson watched Natasha leave, smiling the entire time. He sat down on the bench when she was out of sight, slumping forwards with his elbows resting on his knees. “So,” he said, staring out at the children still splashing about in the water park, “I take it Natalie was here to check up on us?”

Tony shrugged. “Yes and no,” he said. “I think she just wanted to poison me with bad cookies because she knows I can’t say no to them.” He felt his phone buzz and lifted it up, grumbling while Steve squashed himself against his shoulder. “Ah,” he said, unlocking the phone after smearing a few blobs of water across the screen, “She says she’s planning to meet us for dinner at home.”

“Who is she?” Steve asked, peering down at the phone. “Do we know her?”

“We’ll explain it when we get home,” Coulson said, standing up. “Come on. Let’s go back to the car.”

Steve stared longingly at the spray park, his lower lip drooping. “Do we _have_ to?”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Tony said, heaving himself upright. He threw Steve over his shoulder like the kid was a sack of potatoes, doing a slow circle as Steve giggled away. “You think we should get her anything?”

Coulson smiled stiffly. “Like what? Like _real_ cookies?”

“Ooh,” Tony chuckled, “ _sassy_. I like that.”

“You would,” Coulson snorted, starting towards the car. He stopped when he realized that Tony wasn’t speeding along after him and waited for him to catch up. “You want me to carry him?”

“Nah,” Tony grunted, “its fine. He’s like a fluffy little cloud,”

“Hey!” Steve said into Tony’s back.

“It’s true,” Tony grinned, shifting Steve over his shoulder again. “He’s a fluffy, fluffy cloud.”

“I’m not a cloud!” Steve grumbled, smacking Tony lightly on the back.

“Apparently he’s a _grumpy_ , _grumpy_ cloud,” Coulson murmured. He followed along at Tony’s pace for a while, keeping an eye on Steve and the car as though he was gauging how far they had to go; as they approached the car, he took Tony by the hand, leading him across the street towards the grocery store. “You know what – I think today calls for pie. Lots and lots of pie,”

“Oh?”

“And ice cream,” Coulson said, pulling open the door so Tony didn’t have to juggle Steve to get at it. “Lots and lots of ice cream.”

Tony forced himself to smile despite the horror he felt at the thought of Steve surrounded in sugary ice cream and treats; he hoped he wasn’t to regret this. “Good idea,”

 

 

Natasha showed up at six p.m., bringing a massive tray of deli meats and cheese with her; she clearly had no intention of cooking, and Tony felt extremely jealous when she threw herself into a chair and waited patiently while they assembled dinner. He missed the old days when he could get Jarvis to order something in. Cooking was work – and cooking for a relatively picky child was even _more_ work. Luckily, they hadn’t had any problems getting their hands on Steve-approved food, so it hadn’t been too much of an issue so far. Still, a part of him wouldn’t have minded dumping the cooking duties off on someone else.

Natasha smirked at Tony while he started slicing up fresh bread and turned her holographic display watch off so that she was finally recognizable. She seemed relatively calm – almost too calm for Tony’s liking. After a few minutes of observing their culinary skills, she got up and gave the place a once over, peering into bedrooms and out windows while Tony and Coulson slaved away over the pile of cold cuts. While Steve didn’t seem particularly excited about seeing her again, he was polite enough to make her a sandwich; he even brought it to her after he was done, and while it was a little lopsided and a tad too dry for her taste, she ate it anyways.

After dinner they set Steve up at the dining room table with a pile of paper and a box of crayons and retreated to the living room, keeping their voices down while they got down to business. Natasha curled up on the end of the couch beside Tony, cradling a cup of piping hot tea in her hands. She watched, unamused, as Coulson devoured his third bowl of chocolate pecan ice cream.

“What?” Coulson growled through a mouthful of ice cream.

“Nothing,” Natasha said with a shrug. She took a sip of her tea, spinning the cup idly between her hands. “I want to fill you in on the latest reports.”

“We know the latest reports,” Coulson muttered, licking his spoon clean.

“You know most of it, yes,” Natasha said, “but you don’t know everything. Bruce sent in another progress report a few hours ago. I asked Jarvis to delay the delivery so we could talk before you found out about it.”

“Is this good news or bad news?” Tony asked, draining the last of his coffee. He set his mug down on the coffee table, debating on whether he should get a refill or not; he hoped they weren’t going to be here all damn night. He felt like he could pass out, and it wasn’t even that late.

“I would classify it as bad news,” Natasha said softly. “We had a ping from Clint,”

Coulson nearly dropped his bowl. “You _what_?”

“Before you get excited, it’s not current. It was a delayed message – one he put into the system before he was disconnected. Jarvis managed to extract the string and send it to us before it could get deleted by the system,” Natasha said.

Coulson’s face fell. He stood up and staggered into the kitchen, throwing open the freezer; he yanked out the bucket of Neapolitan ice cream, scooping himself a helping of strawberry and chocolate.

Natasha stared into her cup. “He’s going to finish that entire bucket before the night’s through,”

“Should we do something about that?” Tony asked, frowning. “Is this one of those things? Are we not supposed to feed agents after midnight or something?”

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t recommend trying to get between him and the ice cream right now,” Natasha murmured. “The last time someone tried to pry ice cream out of his hands after a bad mission it was Clint and well… let’s just say the only reason Clint wasn’t immediately stabbed was because they were dating.”

Tony winced. “Ouch,”

Coulson returned from the kitchen, sitting down in his chair again with the bowl cradled in his lap. “The string – what did it say?”

“It was filled with typos, but it mentioned someone called the Winter Soldier,” Natasha said.

“The Winter Soldier?” Coulson shoveled ice cream into his mouth again. “That sounds familiar.”

“It should. He’s an assassin the Soviets used back during the Cold War,” Natasha said with a grimace. She drained her tea and set her cup down beside Tony’s, leaning heavily against the back of the couch. “I knew him quite well. We trained together. He’s good at his job.”

“Ah yes,” Tony said, shaking his head, “I forgot you didn’t always work for dear old SHIELD.”

“Liar,” Natasha chuckled, slapping Tony across the knee a little more forcefully than necessary.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony muttered, rubbing his knee. “So I take it this guy’s bad news bears?”

“He was the Red Room’s top assassin – aside from me – and stayed that way up until they were disbanded,” Natasha said. “He must have found a new backer.”

“Oh god,” Tony groaned, “He’s after Steve too, isn’t he?”

“We’re unsure,” Natasha murmured. “Clint’s message stated that he heard one of the Hydra agents mention a Winter Soldier earlier in the day. He was asking for clarification – trying to get Jarvis to give him a heads up if something was really wrong. Sadly, I’m not sure he got the information he needed.”

“So you’re saying this Winter Soldier guy could have been responsible for his – attack?” Tony asked. He didn’t like the idea of an assassin being on Hydra’s payroll, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now. He wouldn’t have put it past them to hire an assassin to peg off for a little kid, either; they seemed like heartless bastards, alright. “It doesn’t make any sense though. They’re trying to snatch Steve up, not murder him. Why would they hire an assassin to go after him? Shouldn’t they have been looking for a world-class kidnapper instead?”

“They’re impatient,” Coulson said, setting his spoon down into the last blob of ice cream in his bowl. “I hate to say it, but I’d rather have this Winter Soldier working with them than with another unknown. From what I’ve read the guy has had ties with people far worse than Hydra, and all of them wouldn’t mind getting a piece of Steve.”

“I’m assuming you’re talking about AIM,” Tony grumbled.

“Likely,” Natasha shrugged. “He works with whoever hires him and like most of us, it isn’t the company that he cares about. He’s in it for the money – _strictly_ for the money. He’s self-employed, and it’s the one thing he needs the most of if he wants to retire.”

“What about the Red Skull?” Coulson asked. “Could he be involved too?”

“I don’t know,” Natasha said. “I doubt the Skull would stoop so low as to hire an ex-communist, but you never know. He dislikes them just as much as he dislikes Steve, but he seems to enjoy breaking his own rules when it suits him. I think he would be far more interested in capturing Steve than killing him. It would be the perfect game to him – raising Captain America and turning him into a monster.”

Tony shuddered. “I thought the Skull was dead. Steve seemed to think he was,”

Natasha shook her head. “No, the Skull has been in hiding, but SHIELD has had at least five reports from field agents stating that Hydra grunts have been whispering about him. Madame Hydra hasn’t been happy about it, but there’s not much she can do if he reappears and steps in to reclaim his position. The Skull’s daughter Sin has been poking around too, although we’ve caught a break in that respect – she doesn’t seem to care about Steve all that much – at least not at the moment.”

Tony felt a little like he had been hit over the head with a frying pan. Jesus – _Red Skull_? AIM? Sin? Assassins and kidnappers? Why the fuck hadn’t SHIELD _said_ anything about all of this? Had they thought they were doing them a _favor_ by keeping it a big secret?

Natasha seemed to notice his shock; she patted Tony on the knee, rubbing her thumb in gentle circles over his kneecap. “Steve knew all about this, Tony. That’s the reason Agent 13 was sent away – this was what she was dealing with,”

“Agent 13?” Tony could recall hearing the name somewhere but he hadn’t really bothered to look it up. He regretted not poking his nose into things more while he had had the chance. He gritted his teeth, picking his tablet up off the back of the couch. This wasn’t fair – and he damn well wasn’t going to sit around waiting to be told about the ‘situation’ while everyone else knew all about it.

Natasha pulled the tablet out of Tony’s hand before he could so much as unlock the thing. She set it down on the coffee table, unimpressed by his rebellious glare. “Agent 13 is Sharon Carter. She’s Peggy Carter’s niece – she’s Steve’s girlfriend,”

Tony stiffened; his arm, still draped over the armrest, felt numb up to the elbow, like he had been sitting here for hours. Steve Rogers had a _girlfriend_? It had to be some kind of joke. Steve couldn’t have a girlfriend – a _girlfriend_ would have rushed over when her _boyfriend_ turned into a fucking seven year old. “Are you shitting me?”

“He’s been dating her on and off for the past two years,” Natasha said slowly, her eyes widening. “You didn’t know?”

“Of course I didn’t _know_ ,” Tony snapped, wrapping his arms around his chest. He didn’t know why the news stung, but it did and he didn’t like the way his heart seemed to be downright _aching_ because of it. “Why the fuck would _I_ have known? It wasn’t like we talked. The guy screamed in my face because I ate a piece of his fucking bagel – why the fuck would I have known anything about his fucking private life?”

Coulson grimaced. “Language!”

“Fuck off,”

“Look, he didn’t go around broadcasting it, if that’s what you’re thinking. The only reason the two of us know about it is because we walked in on them while they were making plans for a date,” Coulson said.

That didn’t make Tony feel any better. He snorted, furious that he had been left out of the loop _again_. Did they think he was some kind of gossip? Had they thought he was going to scream Steve’s secrets from the rooftops like some jealous ex-girlfriend? He found himself staring at Steve and had to look away, afraid the kid would see just how angry he was; it wasn’t the kid’s fault after all. It was Steve’s fault – adult Steve’s fault, and no one else’s. “So why isn’t she the one here with him?” he said, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“She’s on an away mission,” Coulson said quietly, peering at Steve to make sure the kid hadn’t heard anything. “We didn’t exactly tell her.”

“You _didn’t_ tell her?” Tony snorted. “Well at least I’m not the only one in the dark then,”

“We _couldn’t_ tell her. She’s imbedded with no way to withdraw her for another three months,” Coulson said. “I didn’t say we weren’t going to tell her _eventually_. It’s better this way – she doesn’t have to worry about him and she’s not going to compromise her mission.”

“Not that she would,” Natasha said, examining a fingernail. “She’s a professional. She understands that there are things she can’t change,”

“So is that it then? Meeting over?” Tony reached for his tablet. Natasha put her hand on his, stopping him from picking it up again.

“I know you’re mad,” she said, softly, “but it’s not your fault that he choose not to tell you. He’s the team leader, but that doesn’t mean he has to share his life with everyone. No one else knew about it. I think he did it because he didn’t wanted anyone to think that she was getting special treatment because they were dating,”

“Yeah, well – it would have been nice to get a heads up after he turned into a kid,” Tony muttered.

“And what would that have done?” Natasha quirked an eyebrow. “Would that have made you love him any less?”

Tony pursed his lips. “No.” It wasn’t love. He was just keeping the kid safe – keeping _Steve_ safe. Love didn’t have anything to do with it.

“Then suck it up, Stark,” she said, flicking him in the ear. “It’s not like you’re never going to get the chance to be his friend. You’ll have plenty of chances to do that once he’s an adult again. Right now, he needs you to be yourself – to keep him company and watch out for him since he can’t do it himself.”

“I know that,” Tony grumbled, rubbing his ear. “I just…”

“Wish you had a second chance?” Coulson asked. He smiled sadly down at his empty ice cream bowl.

Tony fell silent; Natasha stilled beside him, seemingly frozen in place.

“You’re a lucky guy, Tony.” Coulson took his bowl to the sink and rinsed it out, setting it down on the counter. “I’d give anything for a second chance,” he said. He walked past Steve, patting him on the shoulder before he headed out to the front door, walking outside. “When you get it, don’t waste it.”

Natasha and Tony exchanged looks and then turned away from the door.

Tony’s gaze settling on Steve; the kid was still drawing serenely at the kitchen table, blessedly unaware of what had just happened. It was times like these that Tony was glad Steve was so good at tuning other people out while he was playing. He wished he could be like that; it would have made his life a hell of a lot easier. He cradled his head in his hands, letting out a long, pained sigh. This was something he couldn’t engineer his way out of. What the hell was he supposed to say to Coulson? Was he supposed to keep pretending that nothing was wrong? Should he drive out and get a few six packs of beer? That was how he usually handled things when they went to shit; he got hammered and tried to bleach the thoughts out of his mind through his liver. Somehow he didn’t think drinking himself blind was a good idea this time – at least not when Coulson and Steve were in the picture. “Should we go out there?” he asked Natasha, gnawing on his lower lip. He wished he could call Pepper. She would have known what to do.

“No,” Natasha murmured as she stood and gathered up their cups. “Leave him to his thoughts. He needs time alone to process his loss.”

“Are you heading home?”

“Yes,” Natasha said, setting the cups down in the sink. She braced herself on the counter, her shoulders slumping; her red hair hung limply around her face. “It’ll be better someday. I just hope for his sake that someday comes soon,”

“I hope you’re right,” Tony muttered. He dragged himself up from the couch, wandering over to the kitchen table. He pulled out a chair and sat down beside Steve, stealing away one of the kid’s crayons; it was a bright blue one, one that reminded him of Jarvis and his workshop holograms. He stared down at the crayon, feeling more homesick than ever.

Steve looked up at him, mildly confused by the sudden thievery. “Tony?”

“Can I draw too?” Tony asked, gesturing to the pile of papers in front of Steve.

Steve handed Tony a piece of paper from his pile. “Is Mr. Coulson alright?”

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Tony said, staring down at the blank sheet in front of him. He started drawing, aware dimly that Natasha was looking over his shoulder as he worked.

 

 

Tony put Steve to bed after reading aloud to him for a least an hour and a half longer than he had intended; Steve had kept giving him puppy dog eyes every time he tried to close _The Three Musketeers_ , and he hadn’t been able to say no. The kid had obviously taken lessons from someone, and Tony had a sneaking suspicion that Clint had been responsible.

He wondered just how much Clint had taught the kid during their time together. It wasn’t exactly a surprise that Clint had been so involved with Steve’s life considering Steve had been trapped in the Tower, but it was a little depressing, really, realizing that the archer might not be around to teach Steve anything else. There were just some things that only an irritating uncle could teach a kid, after all, and Tony was a poor substitute for the prankster even if he had been good at terrorizing people in his youth. He waited until Steve was giving off those adorable snorts that he loved so much, before he left the room.

He gave the rest of the house a cursory glance before retreating to his bedroom with his tablet in hand. He set it to stream the security feeds, unwilling to sleep without having instant access to them; he crawled into bed, leaving the tablet propped up on the pillow beside him, and pulled the covers up to his chin despite the fact that it was still a little too warm for them. It wasn’t his night to stay up and keep watch, but somehow it felt like he might have to take the reins sometime soon, if only to give Coulson a break. It was better to get some sleep now in case he needed to be up again later. He closed his eyes, praying that he wouldn’t have to be the one to save them. He knew how bad that would probably go; he was no hero after all. Steve had said so himself. “Wake me up if anything strange happens,” he told Jarvis as he drifted off.

He woke with a snort a few hours later when Coulson crawled into bed with him. At first Tony’s brain didn’t process what was happening; it simply let him roll over and attempted to get him to go back to sleep instead of letting him ask just what the hell was going on. He rolled back over again when things finally caught up with him, feeling both concerned and confused. “What’s going on? Did something happen?” Please let nothing have happened, he thought, please let Steve be alright.

“I’m going to sit here while I do my shift, ok?” Coulson murmured, staring up at the ceiling. His normally dour frown was gone, replaced with a cold, almost dead stare of indifference. He set Tony’s tablet on his stomach and propped it up with a pillow, focusing on it instead of on Tony. “I just… I need to sit with someone. Is that alright?”

Tony nodded slowly in understanding. He relaxed against his pillow, forcing himself to unclench his fists. It was fine. They were still safe.

“He’s probably gone,” Coulson murmured, still gazing at the cameras.

Tony sighed. Oh god – and here was yet another conversation he didn’t want to have. Why did it _always_ seem to be him who got the tough ones? Why couldn’t it be Natasha or Bruce? At least they knew how to talk to people without blowing up at them – although, he supposed idly, Bruce probably wasn’t the best at that particular skill now that he thought about it. “We don’t know he’s gone forever,”

“He would have come here if he was alive,”

“It’s only been a day,” Tony said, patting Coulson on the shoulder. “Realistically, there’s still a chance he can show up. There’s still hope.”

“He would have come here if he was alive,” Coulson said, shaking his head. “He _always_ knows what to do. He wouldn’t stay out of contact unless he was dead.”

“If he’s still alive, he’ll find us,” Tony said. “I believe that.”

“ _If_ he’s still alive,”

Tony sighed. “ _Yes_. If he’s still alive, he’ll come here. He knows where to go – we had it all planned out, remember? He has the emergency plan memorized. He’ll come find us somehow,”

“No, he won’t,” Coulson said, looking from camera to camera on the tablet, frowning when he noticed that nothing had changed. “He won’t. I have to accept that. _We_ have to accept it.”

“We don’t need to accept it right this minute,” Tony growled. He tugged the blanket up higher, burrowing underneath it as a draft tried to creep in. “Look, I don’t know. Don’t listen to me – I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about.” He rolled over to escape the glow coming off the tablet, wanting to stuff his head under his pillow. “Do what you need to do, Phil. You know what’s best,”

Coulson sighed. He rubbed his face, letting out a low groan. “I don’t _know_ ,” he hissed, dropping his hands onto the comforter. “I don’t _know_. Why did this have to happen? Why? Why couldn’t he have just said _yes_ and come with me?”

Tony remained silent, unsure of what to say.

“Why did he have to say no? Did he _hate_ me? Is that it? Was he just planning on letting me down easy?”

Tony rolled over; he took Coulson’s hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “Phil, he _loves_ you. He doesn’t hate you. He probably panicked and said no when he didn’t mean it,”

“But he _said_ no!” Coulson snapped, yanking his hand free. He stared down at it, his vision blurred by unshed tears, “he said _no_. Why would he do that unless he meant something by it?”

“Yeah, well – shit happens, Phil,” Tony growled. “He said no, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. It means he wasn’t ready to get married – Christ, you’re making it seem like he hit you in the head with a fucking brick and ran off to Mexico. He told you he didn’t want to get married before you even got together, right?”

“Yes,” Coulson murmured, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“I know I’m being a complete jackass here – believe me – but you already knew he was going to say no, didn’t you?”

“I thought things were going to be different. We were together for so long,”

“Being with someone amazing doesn’t erase that fear of commitment, Phil, it doesn’t make it any less terrifying,” Tony said. “Pepper couldn’t make me any less afraid of the future, and believe me, she tried so hard it damn nearly drove her crazy. Clint and I, we’re cowards, – we’re fucking cowards when it comes to this shit, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you back. He just needs time to think things through,”

“But he’s _dead_ , Tony. Don’t you get that?”

“He’s _not_ fucking dead – he’s been gone for a _day_. Why are you guys so goddamned cynical about everything? We have no information, and yeah, he _could_ be dead, but we don’t know for sure– so shut the fuck up, alright? Stop saying it,” Tony said hoarsely. He wiped at his eyes, surprised by his own tears. “He’s _fine_. He’s a stupid _jackass_ , and he’s _not_ dead. He’s fine – he’s just _missing_.”

“Ok, Tony,” Coulson said, sniffling. He took Tony’s hand in his, squeezing it tight. “Alright. I… alright.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony muttered, wiping his nose on the back of his free hand. God, he was such a _jerk_ sometimes. Why the hell had he said all of that? Coulson was the one suffering – he was the one practically joined to the hip with Clint, and here _he_ was, beaking off and making things worse. “I shouldn’t have – I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“It’s not alright, but I forgive you,” Coulson said softly. He patted Tony’s hand, a tentative smile forming on his face. “Thanks,”

“For what?”

“For not letting me give up,” Coulson murmured. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Well, wake me up when you do,” Tony grunted, burrowing deeper into his pillow. God, he was so _done_ with _feelings_.

“Alright,” Coulson chuckled. “But you’re making breakfast tomorrow,”

“Fine,”

“And coffee,”

“Seems fair,”

“And you’re going to the store to get more ice cream,”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “It’s all gone?”

“Sadly, yes,”

“Alright,” Tony grumbled. “I’ll go buy more ice cream,”

“Good. Then you’re completely forgiven,” Coulson said, flicking through the security cameras again. “As long as you get something with peanut butter in it. Steve likes peanut butter.”

Tony smiled. “Sure.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know if you spot anything weird! Thanks for reading! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony was pretty sure he hadn't ever woken up in bed with Coulson before...
> 
> Heads up for creepy homophobic guy later in the chapter - he doesn't say anything here, but he thinks evil thoughts.

Tony was used to waking up with strangers in his bed, albeit it for different reasons, so it wasn’t too much of a shock to find out that Coulson was still there with him the next morning. He stretched out, cracking his back in a way that was absolutely _sinful_ and tried to get up, figuring Coulson would appreciate having some space of his own after everything that had happened. What he _hadn’t_ expected was to see Steve staring at him with his blanket held tightly in hand, standing in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights.

“Steve?” Tony tried not to let the frown on Steve’s face get to him. “What’s up, buddy?”

“I thought…” Steve looked from Tony to Coulson, clearly confused. “I thought only men and women slept together like that. Isn’t it… isn’t it wrong for two men to do that kind of stuff?”

Tony couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. He shook his head, patting the bed to get Steve to come closer. The kid approached slowly, eyeing Coulson as if he expected to be yelled at or something; Tony had no idea why the little guy was so skittish all of a sudden. Steve scrambled up onto the bed and sat down at Tony’s feet, wrapping his blanket around his shoulders.

“Coulson and I aren’t married for real, you know that – right?” Tony asked, carefully.

Steve nodded slowly.

“And while it’s ok for two guys to sleep together, we’re _not_ sleeping together – like _that_ ,” Tony said, pausing to think. Well this was awkward. How much had Natasha and the others explained to him – and for that matter, when was it appropriate to get into an educational discussion about sex with a kid Steve’s age? Should he be saying anything at all? Then again – the kid _had_ asked, and he did look kind of worried, so it couldn’t make anything worse. Tony sighed. Oh well. “When you were living with your Ma, did people talk about that kind of stuff?”

Steve pursed his lips, fiddling with his blanket. “I’ve never seen anyone like that before,” he said. “But Ma said everyone deserves respect, so I guess it’s not my business,”

“That’s true,” Tony said, smiling at Steve. “It’s a decision some men and women make, and it’s not really up to us if they choose to have consenting relationships with other adults of _any_ gender, right?”

“Right,” Steve said.

“Right now, Coulson and I are just pretending to be a married couple – he and I are just friends, ok? It’s a disguise to keep the guys who are looking for us off the scent,” Tony said, hoping he had been clear enough. At least the kid had felt comfortable enough to ask about it instead of running away and hiding; he wasn’t so sure _he_ would have had the balls to ask an adult those kinds of questions when he had been little.

“Oh!” Steve looked startled. “But why was is he sleeping in the same bed with you? He _has_ a bed,”

“That I do,” Coulson said, sitting up. He threw the blankets off and handed Tony the tablet, yawning into his hand. “And I’m headed there right now. Tony was just keeping me company while he slept.” Coulson struggled free from the blankets, his movements sluggish and lazy. He paused to stretch out like a cat before shuffling across the floor towards the door. He turned and gave Tony a sleepy-yet-serious stare. “Don’t take him too far outside without me,”

“I’m assuming sitting on the beach outside is alright,” Tony said, picking up his tablet. He could tell by just looking at it that nothing much had changed since he had seen it the night before. That blip on the movement sensors from last night was still there, but it was probably just a bird – hopefully not a rat.

“The beach should be just fine as long as you stick to the property lines,” Coulson yawned. “Natasha’s watching that and the roads, so you can go outside if you feel like it. Just make sure you wake me up if that blip starts moving again,”

“Alright,” Tony chuckled. “Go get some sleep, Phil. I’m going to go make the brat breakfast.” He scooped Steve up and carried him into the kitchen, blanket and all, setting him down in a chair at the table.

Coulson stumbled out into the living room behind them. He slipped quietly into his bedroom, leaving the door open a crack and then pulled the door open again, poking his head out. “Give me a shout when it’s time for lunch,”

“Will do,” Tony said. He turned back to Steve, checking to make sure the kid didn’t still look like his head was going to explode. Steve looked a lot calmer – a lot less uncomfortable too. “So, did I answer all of your questions?” Tony asked, pulling a carton of eggs from the fridge. There weren’t that many left, which meant they were going to have to make another trip into town soon. Man, at the rate they were going through food – and ice cream – the grocery store clerks were going to know them by name.

“So if you’re not really Mr. Coulson’s husband, what would you do if someone tried to hit on him?” Steve asked, swinging his legs under the table.

Tony chuckled. “I don’t know, buddy. I guess I’d have to play along and chase the person off. We’re fake married after all – it would look a little suspicious if I didn’t.”

“Would you have to kiss him?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, his hands settling on his hip. “What? Like, if someone came up to me on the street and demanded I kiss Coulson _or else_?”

Steve blushed, staring at the tabletop. “Maybe?”

“I guess I’d have to kiss him then,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. He ruffled Steve’s hair. “What brought that on?”

“I don’t know. Can two men _really_ get married?” Steve asked, tugging on the hem of Tony’s shirt.

“Yes they can. It’s legal in New York and a bunch of other places all over the world, but it isn’t legal everywhere,”

“ _Really_?” Steve’s eyes lit up. “It’s really true? I saw it in the paper Uncle Bruce gave me, but I thought it was made up like that Onion thing Uncle Clint showed me,”

Tony chuckled, setting the eggs down on the counter. “Yep, it’s really, really true,” He popped a couple of slices of bread into their ancient-yet-still-functional toaster and started it up. “Do you want your eggs fried or scrambled?”

“Fried is ok,” Steve said, resting his elbows on the table. “Do _you_ like that two men can get married?”

“I think it’s an awesome thing for any couple to be able to get married,” Tony said, cracking four eggs into the pan. He silently cheered when he didn’t end up with a handful of shell fragments everywhere.

“Do _you_ like men?” The question wasn’t completely out of the blue, but it still made Tony drop his handful of eggshells into the sink by accident; he hadn’t expected Steve to just _ask_ like that. Even reporters hadn’t outright asked him– at least not since he had been young, dumb and drunk sixty percent of the time.

“Uh, yeah,” Tony said, fishing the eggshells out of the drain. “I like men, but I like women too.”

Steve frowned. “Does that happen a lot to people?”

Tony set the eggs down on a used plate, washing his hands off with soapy water. “Yeah, buddy,” he said, drying his hands and turning back to his now hot frying pan, “It happens. Some people don’t uh, like it when you like more than one gender, but I don’t really think it’s an issue. People should be able to like whoever they want,”

Steve leaned against the table, his frown slowly vanishing. “So it’s ok to like men _and_ women?”

“Yep,”

“Really?”

“Really,”

“You’re not just saying that?”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. What the hell had people been telling the kid? When Clint came back, he was going to have a few words with him for letting the kid watch so much Fox. “No, kiddo,” he said, still half-watching his eggs sizzle away, “I’m _not_ just saying that. To me, that’s the way it is.”

“I like that,” Steve said brightly, doodling imaginary lines with his finger on the tabletop. “That’s a lot nicer than it used to be when I was still living with Ma.”

“Sure,” Tony said with a nod, setting the cooked eggs on a plate. Sometimes he forgot just how different Steve’s upbringing had been; it hadn’t been all that long since he had met Steve – child Steve, that was – but it felt like he had been around forever. Tony frowned. It was hard to imagine a world without Steve in it now that he thought about it. He wondered when _that_ had happened – when Steve had started wedging himself into his life. Pepper was going to give him shit when he got back, he thought, smiling. All that complaining, and here he was having a civil discussion with Steve about being Bi. Adult Steve would have probably decked him if he’d even _tried_ to bring that up, even jokingly. He fished the toast out of the toaster and set it on a plate in front of Steve. “You want to butter these yourself? Or do you want me to do it?”

“That’s ok, I can do it,” Steve said, shucking his blanket. He dropped down from his chair and heaved open the fridge, his arms pulled taut as he fought to get the door open. He found the margarine after hunting around behind the milk and carried it back to the table, pushing the door closed with his back so that he didn’t have to turn around again. “Can I have a butter knife please?” Tony handed him one and put a new set of toast into the toaster after dumping out all the crumbs; better that than end up with a fire. The thing was old enough for that to be an _actual_ issue after all, and the last thing he wanted to do was burn the place down around them.

“So what did you want to do today?” Tony asked as he turned the stove off. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too much happening; he was starting to feel tired already, and he was the one who had gotten a few hours of _decent_ sleep.

Steve stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, wrestling with the lid on the margarine container, and shrugged. “I don’t know. We could go try and swim maybe? I’ve never done that before,”

Tony’s insides froze over; he managed to keep a smile on his face, but it was a very near thing. He could feel every hair on his body standing to attention at the very _thought_ of stepping into a body of water larger than a puddle – oh _god_. Nope. He really didn’t want to go there – _nope_. Not now, not ever –

“Tony? Can we swim?”

Steve’s puppy dog eyes should have been illegal, Tony mused darkly. He squashed his growing dread, screaming internally for it to shut the hell up. If he could to this for Steve, he would. The kid deserved the chance to learn how to swim – he deserved all the good things in life, and if this was something Steve wanted, then he would just have to suffer through. “Alright. We can go swim. Let’s just eat breakfast first,” Tony said, keeping his smile plastered in place. He just hoped he could keep it together long enough for the kid to get bored, or else this was going to be a very, _very_ bad day.

 

 

Tony walked out onto the porch first, mostly because he wanted to get a good look at the sea before Steve could see him staring at it like it was a bucket of nuclear waste; he knew he usually looked pretty bad when water came into the picture, but he wasn’t sure how bad it really was. Natasha had pointed it out on multiple occasions, and while he had always thought he had done a great job hiding it, he knew he wasn’t the best at keeping abject fear out of his eyes – at least not for long. So far it wasn’t all that bad, and yeah, he was only standing on the porch, but it was as good a start as any. He looked around for a spot to sit and found that he wasn’t alone; well, at least this explained why there had been a heat signature on the cameras the night before.

There, sitting on the cushioned bench in the biggest patch of sunlight, was an elderly looking Maine Coon with silvery hair; the cat lazily opened a yellow eye when it noticed he wasn’t going away. It stretched out, digging its claws into the cushion before sitting up a little, giving Tony the hairiest eyeball he had ever been given before in his life. Clearly, he wasn’t as respectable as he had thought, he chuckled to himself. He sat down on the bench beside the cat and held his hand out, wondering if he was going to have to rush off to the emergency room. The cat leaned forwards and butted its head against his hand, smearing its wet nose against his knuckles. Ah, well. Maybe he wasn’t so scummy looking after all.

“Tony? Should I wear a shirt?” Steve asked, hanging off of the doorway. He was dressed in his water wings and a pair of bright orange swim trunks. “Is that a cat?”

Tony stroked the cat’s head, working his fingers through its tangled silvery hair to get at its collar; there was a sturdy medallion-shaped nametag dangling from the leather collar around the cat’s neck, and thankfully the engraving on the medallion’s front was still nice and legible. “ _Her_ name is Mabel,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the crooked script. “Apparently she belongs to the lady who owns the beach houses.”

“Oh,” Steve said, creeping closer. He padded barefoot across the porch to the bench and knelt down in front of the cat, peering at her like she was some kind of alien creature. Tony would have been more amused if he hadn’t known that the kid had been plagued with allergies so severe he had almost died from them. Hell, this might have been the first cat Steve had been able to walk up to without keeling over from because of an asthma attack.

Mabel seemed unconcerned by Steve’s approach; she blinked at him and then looked away, more interested in finding out why Tony’s hand had stopped moving. She started cleaning her yellowing teeth on Tony’s thumb and made a funny noise – something like a cross between a grunt and a snort – before she started licking his knuckles with her sand-papery tongue, clearly pleased with the saltiness of his skin.

“Is it ok if I pet her too?” Steve asked, looking from the cat to Tony and back.

“Sure,” Tony said, rubbing the cat’s chin. “Just don’t touch her stomach and feet – and be gentle with her ears. Most cats don’t like that.”

Tony had seen kids petting animals before, but Steve was something else; the little guy was so tender, the cat looked like she was going to melt into a puddle right there on the cushions; she was that happy. Her purrs sounded a little like they were coming from a rusty chainsaw, and they grew louder and louder as he started scratching at her neck fur. Steve grinned up at Tony.

“I think she likes you,” Tony said, leaning back against the post behind him. He gave the beach a quick check to see if there was anyone around, and found the sand free of unexpected visitors. It was a shame, really. He would have appreciated the distraction.

“Can we keep her?” Steve asked. He started giggling when the cat stood up and rammed him in the chin with her face. She started licking his cheeks, cleaning off the margarine still on his chin.

“I think she’s got an owner already, kiddo,” Tony said, gesturing to the collar, “but I bet she’d like some food and water.”

“Yeah?” Steve stood up and dashed away into the house before Tony could ask what he was going to do. The kid returned carrying a bowl of water; Tony had no idea where he had found the bowl, because it wasn’t one he had seen before, but he wasn’t too concerned. At least this way Coulson wouldn’t shit a brick about animals eating off their dishes.

Steve set the water down in front of Mabel, watching carefully as she turned around in a circle five times before drinking it. He seemed mesmerized by the way she moved; he leaned closer to get a better look at her tongue.

“I take it this is your first cat?” Tony teased, watching Mabel dunk her furry chin in the water. She looked a bit like a swamp monster when she was finished, and to his surprise she didn’t seem too concerned about being wet. Steve snatched the bowl back and dashed back inside to refill it. Tony turned to the cat, who was still licking her wet whiskers. “You know, some days I don’t think anyone listens to me,”

Mabel gave him a grumpy look and went back to grooming herself.

 

 

Tony dipped his toes in the sea, trying to keep himself from flinching every time the water lapped at him. Mabel stood beside him, eyeing the water with a look of pure, unbridled boredom. “You’re a cat,” Tony grumbled, taking another step into the water, “shouldn’t you be running away from water?”

Mabel looked up at him and sneezed.

“Oh, well you’re saying that _now_ ,” Tony muttered, taking another step until his ankles were completely submerged, “but in ten minutes you’ll be running back to the porch with me.” He eyed Steve frolicking a few feet away with the water up to his hips, and wished he could be that carefree around water again. With a sigh, he took another step forwards, dimly aware that the cat was now wading through the water with him.

“Look at all the shells!” Steve ducked down, his hair just skimming the water, and dug around in the submerged sand. The sight made Tony want to hoist him up over his shoulder and sprint back for the porch; he managed to hang on to his self-control as Mabel did figure eights around his ankles, covering him in wet fur.

“That’s great, Steve,” Tony gritted out, forcing himself to keep still as the water rippled around Steve’s hand.

Oh dear god – stop it! You can do this – goddamn it, just let the kid have this _one_ day – just this one –

“Tony?” Steve tugged at Tony’s hand. He looked up at him, his eyes wide and startled. “Are you ok? You look funny,”

“I’m ok,” Tony wheezed, swallowing down a scream. “I’m fine. I just don’t like water that much,”

“Oh,” Steve turned around, looking out over the horizon. “Do you want to go back onto the beach?”

The sea seemed endless from here, and while the cave in Afghanistan had never looked like this, Tony could almost see it lurking out there beyond the waves. He shuddered, swallowing down a mouthful of bile. Shit – _no_. He couldn’t do this here. He had Steve here – he needed to stick it out for Steve’s sake.

Steve slipped his hand into Tony’s. He tugged Tony along behind him, heading back to beach with a determined look on his face, one that was almost too old for him. He sat down, pulling Tony onto the beach beside him, and set his shells out in front of him on the sand. “It’s ok. We don’t have to go in the water anymore.”

They sat together, staring out at the water with Mabel doing laps in front of them, her tail swishing back and forth in the waves.

Tony let out a shuddered sigh, smiling weakly at Steve, his face red with embarrassment. “Sorry about that,”

“It’s ok,” Steve said, patting Tony’s knee. “I get scared sometimes too,”

Tony rested his elbows on his knees. He glared down at the sand stuck to his shins.

“Ma says that if I’m scared I’m supposed to think about good things,” Steve said, stacking his shells. “Can I go back in and get some more?”

Tony tensed. He didn’t want Steve going into the water alone; even if the kid didn’t go in past his hips, it didn’t feel safe. A voice in the back of his mind kept muttering about rogue waves and slippery seaweed and brain damage. Tony knew he was being irrational, but he couldn’t get the stupid nagging voice to shut up. “Give me a minute, ok? I’ll go back in with you.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve said, patting Tony’s knee.

“I know,” Tony sighed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. God, if Rhodey could see him now he would laugh his ass off. Tony Stark, panicking on a beach with a little kid calming him down like it was nothing. He forced himself to stand. He could do this. It was just a few feet out – and it wasn’t like he was going to be going head first into the drink. It was just a little wading – that’s all. He laughed, and winced when he heard how hysterical it sounded.

Steve took his hand again, and led him towards the water. “It’s ok,”

It wasn’t so bad this time, really; it wasn’t _good_ , but it wasn’t so bad. Tony kept close to Steve, making sure the kid wasn’t going to accidentally pitch into the water if he tripped on something. He felt along the sandy bottom with his toes for sharp rocks and shells as they walked, making it his duty to protect the kid’s soft soles. He even picked up a few shells, letting his face come dangerously close to the water he so despised. He was kind of proud of himself.

Steve was a sweetheart; he stuck to the shore and didn’t make a move for the deeper water, even though that was where all the good shells were. Mabel stuck close by too, swimming around as Steve collected handfuls of stones and colourful shells. She seemed as much at home here as she had on the porch; she was waterlogged and her fur made her look a bit like a watered down toupee, but she seemed to be enjoying herself. Tony was wondered who the hell had taught her to swim in the first place.

 

They sat down on the beach when they were done, letting the water trickle between their toes with each fresh wave. Tony grinned shakily at Steve. “I guess that was ok,” he said, patting Mabel’s rump with the flat of his hand. She purred loudly and crawled into his lap, lying across his pants like a beached jellyfish.

“That was fun!” Steve said as he counted his shells.

“Yeah,” Tony said, picking a chunk of seaweed out of Mabel’s fur. “It _was_ fun.” He hadn’t expected to enjoy it as much as he had; sure, he was still shaking a little, and his heart was hammering in his chest a tad harder than normal, but he wasn’t panicking – at least not as badly. He licked his lips and could taste salt there – for once, it wasn’t brought on by sweat.

“Can we feed Mabel?” Steve asked, petting the cat’s head so gently she started pushing against his hand.

“We’re going to need to go to town to get her food,” Tony said, giving Mabel a pat. “Cats shouldn’t really eat people food – especially old lady cats,”

“Why’s that?”

“Well,” Tony said. “Some of them have weird dietary restrictions – you know, like when you’re allergic to stuff. You can’t eat it because it’ll make you sick.” Tony hadn’t actually had a cat before, but his roommate in MIT had brought his ancient brown and black tabby with him, so it had kind of felt like he had; he had heard all about its special food and toys, and while at the time it had been annoying as hell to hear the ‘cute’ stories about how the cat had gotten into their laundry hamper while he had been gone, he had learned a lot more about cat husbandry than he had expected. It had made him sad at the time. His parents had never thought pets were a good idea – not for a child prodigy like _their_ son. Pets were for _stupid_ children, Howard had said once when Tony had asked for one for Christmas. He had been five at the time, and he had never forgotten Howard’s sharp words. His mother hadn’t agreed with the decision, but she hadn’t exactly been willing to go against her husband’s wishes, so they had never gotten a cat, even when Tony had grown old enough to take care of one himself. The closest he had come to pet ownership was with that old, cranky tabby. He had liked that cat better than he had liked most people. “We’ll get her some senior cat food,” he said, flattening down a ridge of fur on Mabel’s back. “We can go after lunch.”

“Do you think she’ll still be here when we get back?” Steve asked, looking doubtful. He started rubbing the cat’s ears, still fretting. She turned her head sharply and bit him; he yelped and pulled his hand back, staring at it in confusion, looking a little like he had been betrayed.

Tony took Steve by the hand, looking at the bite; there was nothing there really, despite a little redness from where she had nipped him. Thank god for that. “You ok, buddy?”

“Yeah, Steve said, looking over his hand at Mabel. “Why’d she do that?”

“I guess she didn’t want you playing around with her ears,” Tony said. He let Steve’s hand drop when he was satisfied that the kid was fine. “Let’s go give it a wash just to be on the safe side, ok?”

“Ok,” Steve said, still side-eyeing the cat. “Do you think she’s mad at me?”

Only _Steve_ would think an animal would get mad at him and blame himself for its behavior, Tony thought with a sigh. He shooed Mabel off his lap; she grumbled at him, and then bit his pant leg when he tried to stand up, holding on to it for dear life when he tried to move. “I think she’s just a cranky old lady,” he said, rolling his eyes at the cat. He helped Steve up and led them up onto the porch with Mabel trailing along behind him, her teeth still buried in his pant leg. He debated on shooing her out of the house when she followed them inside and but gave up when she started winding herself around Steve’s legs. “Cats,” he said, shaking his head. “And people think _I’m_ crazy,”

Steve gave Mabel a tentative pat on the head. She bit him again, but it must not have been as hard this time, because he didn’t even flinch; she started licking his thumb when he tried to move his hand away. “She’s weird,”

“You can say that again,” Tony sighed, heading into the kitchen. He thought about grabbing a towel from the bathroom hamper to dry her off and decided against it; he liked his hand where they were, thanks. She didn’t seem like she would have enjoyed the activity any more than he would, and he had no intention of bleeding all over the floor.

Mabel meowed as Tony opened the fridge. She bumped against his leg, clawing at the fridge door. “What?” he asked, pulling out the box of lunch meat. She meowed at him again, digging her claws into his pant leg and proceeded to climb up his thigh. Cursing, he juggled the lunch meat and the cat, wobbling away from the fridge; his thighs stung bitterly as he moved. He set the box of lunch meat on the table and gingerly pried the cat’s claws out of his pant leg. “Hey – that’s not nice,”

Mabel stared at him, uninterested in his pain. She flicked her tail back and forth, staring at the box on the table as though willing him to give it to her.

“You can have some when we’re done making sandwiches,” Tony grumbled, turning back to the fridge. “Hey, Steve? What kind of bread do you want?”

“Anything’s ok,” Steve said, leaning against the table. “Should we get Mr. Coulson?”

“I guess,” Tony sighed, opening up the cupboard. “Do me a favor – go wake him up, ok? And don’t let her go in there with you – she’s a little stinky right now and I don’t think he’s going to appreciate having smelly cat-butt in his face.”

“Ok!” Steve neatly avoided Mabel, scooting around her, and launched himself at Coulson’s door, leaning against the door frame. “Mr. Coulson?”

Tony smiled softly. He opened the box of lunch meat and tore a chunk of ham free, tossing it to Mabel. “That’s our little secret,” he said. She sat on his foot and stared up at him, her yellow eyes still as bored as ever.

 

 

Tony heaved a sigh as Coulson and Steve looked over what seemed like thousands of cans of cat foot; it felt like he had been standing in the pet store for _decades_. He was surprised his hair hadn’t gone completely gray by now. He shifted his plastic shopping basket from hand to hand, letting the bag of senior cat food slide back and forth. He was glad the two were so excited, but it would have been nice if they had been able to make up their minds already. “Are you two done?”

“No,” Coulson said, peering from one label to the next, a frown on his face. “Do you think she needs low protein?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said with a sigh. “She’s not really my cat, and I’m not psychic,”

Coulson gave Tony a look that screamed a sudden willingness to commit murder; the agent had slept, but not well judging by the dark bags under his eyes, and he hadn’t exactly been thrilled to find that they had a new house guest to take care of in the first place. “You’re the one who wanted to feed her,”

“I know that,” Tony grumbled, nudging Coulson’s hip with the basket. “I just didn’t think it would take _this_ long to get cat food. Christ, it’s like we’re shopping for vegans or something,” he said. He smiled at a shelf stocker when she walked past with a box of dog treats; she smiled back and continued on, disappearing down another aisle as they continued to browse amongst the different cans of wet cat food.

Steve pursed his lips, looking up from his can of chicken liver dinner. “What’s a vegan?”

“A vegan is someone who doesn’t eat anything made out of animal products or by-products,” Tony said. He took the can from Steve and put it in the basket.

“I thought that was a vegetarian,” Steve said, picking up a can of seafood medley.

“Vegetarians sometimes eat shellfish, eggs and dairy,” Tony said, stealing away Steve’s new can. “Vegans don’t touch any of that stuff. Look, as much as I enjoy comparative shopping, why don’t we just get a few different flavors and see what she likes? You know cats – they’re picky. She might not even eat the low protein ones,”

“True,” Coulson said with a sigh. “Do you want to get her a brush? Her hair’s pretty long,”

“I guess,” Tony murmured, looking around for the brushes. He plucked one from the shelf and put it into the basket, vaguely aware that it was _probably_ the right kind of brush. “Do we want to get her a litter box?”

“Do we know if she’ll use one?”

“She’s owned by someone who had enough forethought to get her a collar,” Tony said, turning towards the litter aisle. “She’s probably house broken,”

“How much are we planning to spend here?” Coulson grumbled. He waited patiently for Steve to follow Tony, staying a few feet behind them as they changed aisles.

“I don’t know,” Tony said, pointing Steve towards the different kinds of litter boxes. “Litter boxes are where a cat goes to the bathroom,” he said, before Steve could ask.

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Really?”

“What?” Tony snorted, lifting up the plainest box he could find, wiggling it in Steve’s direction. “ _Everything_ poops, kiddo. It’s a fact of fact,”

“That’s _gross_ ,” Steve said, taking the litter box from Tony. He balanced it on his head, watching as Tony picked through the bags of kitty litter. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

“What?” Tony said, cocking an eyebrow, “pooping in a box? I guess she’ll like it, but I really don’t want to ask,”

“You’re weird,” Steve said, hobbling along behind Tony as he picked up a bag of kitty litter.

“You’re the one with the litter box on your head, buddy,” Tony chuckled, heading towards the till. He paused, hovering between aisles. “Do we need cat toys and treats?”

“It can’t hurt,” Coulson said, slipping down the toy aisle. “I think we’ll keep it small though. We don’t need cat toys cluttering the place up,”

Tony shooed Steve down the aisle ahead of him. “Go pick something out,” he said, lifting the litter box off of Steve’s head.

Steve grinned as he knelt down beside Coulson’s feet. “Do you think she’ll like these?” he asked, going through a pile of feathers on string.

“We won’t know until we try it out,” Tony said, slipping the litter box onto the basket as he set it down. The thing weighted a ton; he was starting to regret not bringing Thor with them. Say what you want about the guy’s stealth abilities, but it would have been nice to have someone with muscles around to do the heavy lifting. He slid the basket to the side of the aisle with his foot and dropped down to his knees to get a look at what Steve had picked out. “That’s a nice one,” he said, feeling the feather at the end of the string. It wasn’t the _best_ toy in the world durability-wise, but for an elderly cat it would probably be just fine; of course, he could make something so much better, he thought with a shake of his head, but what could you do? Maybe he was going to have to start a line of cat toys at SI.

“How about we get these?” Coulson said, holding up a package of bouncy balls. Tony was happy to see that they weren’t the teeny-weenie ones; he was pretty sure he would break his ankle stepping on one. These balls were multi-coloured and about the size of a small baseball, made of soft foam – perfect for an animal with bad teeth. Coulson handed the pack to Steve, letting the kid look them over for himself.

“Can we get these too?” Steve asked, looking up at Tony.

“If Phil says its ok, then its ok with me,” Tony said, picking up a toy aptly named ‘the crinkle bag’. It was just a folded sleeve of fabric and plastic that made crinkling noises when moved; it was nothing special. It _was_ kind of mesmerizing though; he spent a few minutes folding and squishing the thing until he finally decided to put it in their basket. Coulson gave him a look that clearly said he had lost his mind; he shrugged and went back to going through the toys, standing up to get a better look at a package of catnip mice.

“Tony?” Steve ducked his head, hugging Tony’s leg.

“What’s up?” Tony asked, instantly concerned. He looked around and spotted a balding fortysomething year old man standing off in the distance. The guy was clean shaven, but there was something greasy about him. He was wearing a hideous bright orange and red Hawaiian shirt, and despite the colourful clothing, he was scowling like someone had just stolen the last potato chip out from under his nose. He was also doing a pretty piss poor job of pretending not to stare at them, and Tony didn’t like that one bit. He wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulder, tucking the kid against him, trying not to let the kid know how uncomfortable he was with the stranger’s presence. “Oh Phil,” he called out, keeping his voice cheerful, “do me a favor _honey_ – come look at this?”

Coulson practically leapt across the aisle to get to them. He gave the toys in their aisle a cursory glance and then settled his gaze on the one in Tony’s hand, half-looking at it and the guy at the end of the aisle. “That’s very nice,” he said, just loud enough to be heard. He leaned closer and pretended to read the label. “How long has he been standing there?” he muttered under his breath, one hand buried in his pocket.

“I’m not sure,” Tony muttered back, still smiling. “He freaked Steve out though, so he’s been here long enough,”

“Agreed,” Coulson said, turning and giving the man in the Hawaiian shirt another look. He put the catnip mice into their basket, flashing Steve a smile, and lifted up the kitty litter bag. “Alright, I think we’ve got enough stuff now. Let’s blow this popsicle stand,”

“Oh wow,” Tony said, picking up their basket. “You’re really hip and cool there Phil,”

“Very funny,” Coulson said, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Let’s go to the till, buddy,”

They walked slowly to the till, pausing every once in a while to peer at something they passed as if it was actually interesting; Steve held Tony’s hand as they walked, refusing to move away as the man in the Hawaiian shirt trailed after them. Tony could feel the guy’s gaze on the back of his neck the entire time; it wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

The man at the till looked a little like he was going to faint when Tony lifted up their basket and put it on the counter; the guy cheered up considerably when he pulled out a wad of cash to cover their bill. Tony had a feeling this was going to make the store’s year.

“You guys must really love your cat,” the cashier commented, packing their things into plastic bags. The shelf stocker walked up behind him and whispered something in his ear before dropping down to her knees behind the register; she pulled a tray of cat grass out from underneath the counter and carried it off to the front of the store, stepping outside.

“Oh yeah,” Tony said, leaning against the till as he counted his change and put it away. “We’re very attached to her. She’s a sweetheart alright.”

The man in the Hawaiian shirt walked past the till, giving their bags a glance before walking out the front door without buying anything. The cashier gave the guy’s back a glare. “I don’t know why people do shit like that – _pardon my language_ ,” he said, smiling sheepishly down at Steve. “It’s annoying having so many window shoppers these days,”

“Is that guy a regular or something?” Coulson asked, picking up the first of their bags.

“Nope,” the cashier said, handing Tony the bag of kitty litter. “I think he’s new to town – looks like another recent retiree. We get a lot of those here. They make their money, sweep in here and live as frugally as they can.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony chuckled. “That’s too bad.”

“Personally I prefer when we get new families in here – like you guys,” the cashier sighed. “He’s a real nightmare, alright. He came in earlier this morning looking like he was going to burn the place down. He was muttering at everything – he has a thick German accent, so I couldn’t tell what he was going on about, mind you, but I could tell he wasn’t saying anything _nice_ ,”

Tony nodded along, smiling sympathetically at the cashier. “That’s tough,”

The cashier shrugged. “It’s not as bad as it is in the city. At least _here_ the eccentric rich guys are only in town every few weeks for food. They’re cheap mothers,” he finished bagging the last of the cat toys and slid the plastic bag across the counter to Tony. “I’d uh… I’d watch out around him though – if I was you,”

Coulson frowned. “Why’s that?”

“He’s not so open minded, judging by some of the shit he was saying – Julia – my shelf stocker – said that guy kept muttering something about people ‘marrying anyone these days’ – I mean, her German’s a little rusty because she took it in grade twelve, but she said he was looking at you guys when he said it so it can’t be too much of a stretch,”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Tony said, putting a twenty into the donation bin beside the register.

The cashier smiled. “Not a problem. You guys take care now,”

“You too,” Coulson said. He handed Steve the lightest of their bags and lead them out the door, taking point. When they hit the street he slowed down, making sure Steve was just a hair behind him the entire time, shielded from view by his body. “I’m not liking the German connection,”

“Me neither,” Tony muttered, heading towards their car. He stopped a few feet away from it and set his bags down, pulling out his phone. He pulled up the security cameras he had installed in the car and scrolled through the footage to make sure no one had tampered with it; the footage was blessedly clear of evildoing. Sure, Hawaiian shirt guy walked past the car and gave it a dirty look before wandering off, but that was about it.

“He didn’t touch it?” Coulson looked mildly surprised. “That’s unexpected,”

“Maybe he was saving the keying for later,” Tony grumbled, popping the trunk. He slipped his phone into his pocket. “Do we get groceries now or after we talk with Natasha?”

Coulson put their bags into the trunk with Steve’s help, mindful of the awkwardly shaped cat toys. He glanced around when they were done and shut the trunk once he was sure everything was packed away. “She just pinged me,” he said, pulling open the passengers door. “In you go, sport,” he said, helping Steve quickly into the car seat. “She wants to meet at the café three blocks over,”

“And we’re taking the car?” Tony said, raising an eyebrow.

“I want eyes on it,” Coulson shrugged. “Besides, she said she wants to see what we bought, and I don’t want to carry six bags of cat toys around with me. I look like a crazy cat lady on a _good_ day – I don’t need people seeing me like that _now_ ,”

 

 

Natasha was already waiting for them when they walked into the Seaside Coffee Shack; she was dressed in a long sleeved striped dress, and while she looked alert, there was a tiredness to her gaze that hadn’t been there before. She motioned for them to sit and gave Steve a kiss on the forehead before returning to her seat. “The man you ran into in the store wasn’t one of ours as far as I could tell,” she said as soon as the barista finished taking their orders. She smiled pleasantly at the three of them, pushing her cookie tin across the table towards them. Tony was the only one brave enough to take one; he didn’t regret it this time. These were bakery cookies – and damn good ones.

“Did you get these in town?” Tony asked, savoring the marble cookie. The barista brought them over their drinks and scampered off to tend to the empty till as if there was a huge line waiting to be taken care of; Tony had a hard time not laughing.

Natasha smiled, sipping her tea. “Typical Tony. Bring him news, and he asks if the _cookies_ are from around here,”

“Hey,” Tony said, handing a cookie to Steve, “It’s a valid question. We live here – we deserve good cookies,”

“Yeah!” Steve said, nibbling at his cookie.

Natasha ruffled Steve’s hair. “Fair enough,”

“Getting back to the strange angry German man,” Coulson said, clearing his throat.

“His name appears to be Hermann Weiss – assuming of course that it’s his real name,” Natasha said with a sigh. “He came into town this morning – rented out the beach house three doors down from yours.”

“I don’t like it,” Coulson said, shaking his head.

“Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to put up with him until we’ve got more information. If he’s looking for Steve, then he’s going to be watching anyone with children – thankfully, this place is crawling with them, so it’s not as if he’ll be able to just pick you out of a crowd,” Natasha grunted. “More to the point, the beach house across from Weiss’ is due to be rented out soon. The guest registrar says the tenant will be arriving within a few hours, so we’ll have even more trouble to deal with.”

“Any information on that one?” Coulson asked, drumming his fingers on his arm.

“From the credit cards, the man appears clean. Works a simple job at a car wash – nothing fancy, nothing that would draw attention. He’s the one I’m more worried about, actually,” Natasha said, taking a cookie for herself. She bit into it, chewing thoughtfully. “He’s almost _too_ clean. Weiss is a bull in a china shop by comparison,”

“The shelf stocker in the pet store claims she heard Weiss muttering something about him not liking gay marriage – she thinks he was talking about us,” Tony said, sipping his mocha. He handed it to Steve, who had been staring it, and laughed when Steve gagged after tasting it. “Its hot chocolate and coffee,” he said to Steve, pushing the kid’s milk towards him. “What did you expect?”

“I thought it would taste good,” Steve sighed, sipping his milk.

“It _does_ taste good,” Tony said with a smirk. “You’re just too young to enjoy the _fine_ flavor,”

“Natasha doesn’t like it either,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest, matching Coulson.

Natasha smiled softly. “I like it, I just don’t need the excess sugar while I’m working,” she said. She turned her attention to Coulson, as if daring him to say something about the cookie she had just finished eating.

“So what’s the plan?” Coulson said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do we leave now, or do we wait it out?”

“Waiting for more information is the best option,” Natasha said, picking up another cookie. “The cameras are still functional, the information is good and from what I can tell, there’s nothing to be concerned about – aside from the Mr. Weiss’ homophobic streak. You shouldn’t run into any trouble in town. Everyone here watches everyone else, and they like _you_. If something starts going funny, you’ll find out about it pretty damn fast,”

“That’s true,” Coulson said. He picked up his coffee and stared into it for a moment. “I have to ask,”

“No – Clint hasn’t checked in,” Natasha said softly. “If he had, I would have called you.”

“Alright,” Coulson murmured, turning to look out the window. “Look, let’s just get groceries and head home then. If you think we’re safe, then we’re safe,”

Natasha sighed, setting her cup down. “Let’s just take it one day at a time for now,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her. “I’ll check in with you around midnight. For now, let’s just play it safe – you’re here on vacation. Have some fun – _smile_. Do what you were doing before and keep the frowns to yourself, alright?” She kicked Tony lightly in the shin. “And Stark?”

“Yes?” Tony said sweetly, batting his eyelashes at her.

“Don’t panic,”

“What makes you think I’m going to panic?” Tony snorted, draining the last of his mocha.

“I know you,” Natasha said with a smile. “If you see anything – even if it’s just a little weird, phone it in,”

“Obviously,” Tony grumbled, snatching up another cookie before she could close the tin on his fingers. “You’re acting like this is my first rodeo,”

“It is,” Natasha said, standing up. She tucked the cookie tin back into her massive purse, adjusting her dress so it wasn’t bunched up at the front. “We were all scared on our first bodyguard missions – it’s different, though, when you’re guarding someone you love,” she said. She smoothed down Steve’s hair and slipped out of the café, leaving them to gather their thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if anything is weird : ) Sorry this is so late - we had Thanksgiving here in Canada last week, and I kind of wasted a lot of time playing video games and slacking off xD
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony was pretty sure someone was going to give them shit for spying on their neighbors - after all, it was kind of hard to ignore the binoculars, even if they were using them at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this out - I messed up my back pretty badly and got sick all at the same time, so I couldn't sit at the computer to type until recently. I should have the next chapter up next week as usual. Thanks for reading and let me know if anything weird crops up : )

“I can’t believe you bought _fifty_ cookies,” Coulson sighed, lifting his bakery box up to avoid beaming Steve in the head with it when the kid skipped in front of him.

“Hey,” Tony said, neatly avoiding a tree and Steve at the same time, “Steve and I like cookies – besides, I saw you eyeing those cinnamon sugar ones. I know you wanted them too.” He lifted his bag of fresh bread out of Steve’s reach when he tried to make a grab for it. “And yes,” Tony said, rolling his eyes at a now pouting Steve, “I know you want to carry the bread too, but you’ve got the cake already – the bread is _mine_.”

“But I can do it,” Steve grumbled, hugging his pink bakery box against his chest.

“Yeah, I know you can, but if I give _you_ the bag of bread, then what am _I_ supposed to carry?” Tony chuckled, leading them towards their car. Normally he would have been all for loading Steve up to see what the kid could handle, but right now he didn’t feel like messing around – at least not while they were still in town. He knew he was supposed to be playing it cool, pretending like nothing was wrong, but somehow he didn’t quite feel up to it. Knowing that a hired killed could be in town looking for Steve made his blood run cold; he was glad Steve was still mostly oblivious of the whole thing.

“You don’t need to carry anything,” Coulson said, snatching the bag of bread from Tony’s arm. He balanced it on top of his box, smiling softly when he spotted the scowl on Tony’s face. “You paid for everything, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony grumbled, unlocking the trunk. He stepped off to the side, casually reviewing the security footage for the car on his phone before popping the lid. “But that’s my job, remember?”

“Uh, huh,” Coulson chuckled. He glanced at Tony’s phone before setting the cookie box and bread inside the trunk on top of the rest of their groceries. He was a damned efficient at packing, Tony would give him that much. They had crammed two weeks’ worth of groceries into the trunk; with any luck they wouldn’t have to come back out here for at least another week. Two weeks’ worth of food was never really two weeks when it came to Steve’s metabolism, after all.

Steve held up his cake box and waited on tip-toes as Coulson put it away, watching where it went as though trying to protect it from being squashed; he had picked the cake out himself, and had been holding the box ever since leaving the bakery, clinging to it for dear life every time someone walked by. Tony had thought it was funny at first, but after it had happened the first few times he had begun to worry that maybe there was something behind the strange behavior.

Coulson put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, easing him away from the trunk. “Alright, slugger, – let’s head home,” he said. He made sure Steve’s fingers were clear of the trunk before he closed it, glancing faux-casually around at the street before moving towards the car door. “I guess we’ve got everything we need.”

“Yep,” Tony said, stalking around the side of the car to the passenger’s seat. “ _You_ can drive today, sweetheart,” he said, giving Coulson a sultry wink. He threw open the back door and helped Steve into his car seat, making a show of buckling him up. Steve laughed at him, lifting his arms up so that Tony could get the seatbelt in place without trapping himself.

Coulson snorted, shaking his head as he got into the driver’s seat. “Oh gee, _thanks_ , dear,”

“You’re very welcome,” Tony said, closing the door on Steve. He paused, giving the street one last look; it felt like someone was watching them, but he couldn’t see anyone suspicious. No one seemed the least bit interested in them. He got into the passenger’s seat and lifted his phone up, using the security camera to peer a little deeper into their surroundings. He gnawed nervously on his lower lip as the cameras panned, recording every face just in case they needed it. Just like he had thought, there was no one around outright _leering_ at them – no one was out of place at least, and while the hairs on the back of his neck were standing stiffly to attention, there didn’t seem to be any danger. Everyone seemed to be happily going about their day; yet still, something felt off. He closed the door and locked it for good measure, glad to be finished with their shopping.

“Stop it,” Coulson grumbled, starting the car.

“Stop what?” Tony muttered, still staring into his phone.

“It’s fine. We’ll be home in a few minutes,” Coulson said, signaling to turn. “It’ll be fine.”

 

 

When they pulled up onto their driveway they found Mabel sitting on the porch waiting for them with a look of bland indifference on her face; at first Tony was worried that she was going to dart out in front of them and end up a furry pancake, but she didn’t even twitch an ear until Coulson turned the motor off and unlocked their doors; then she was up and moving at a speed Tony had only thought young cats used, greeting them with nips and purrs as they carried their things inside, trying – _naturally_ – to trip them on every step. They sent Steve inside and set him up at the kitchen table with his colouring books and crayons before heading back outside to get the groceries. The kid wasn’t all that happy about being banished to the kitchen, but Tony felt much better now that he was safely tucked away out of sight.

“Do you see him?” Coulson asked, nodding slightly towards the beach house on the far left.

Tony stared blandly at Coulson. “Are you _seriously_ asking me if I can see someone in _that_ house? I can barely see the front _door_ from here,”

“There’s a man standing on the porch,” Coulson said, shouldering a bag of potatoes. “He’s wearing that god awful Hawaiian shirt. You could see that thing from space,”

“Ah,” Tony said, picking up another bag. “I see. I take it that’s Angry German Guy?”

“Hermann Weiss – The one and the same,”

“Well, Natasha _did_ say he moved in,” Tony said, trying to follow Coulson inside. Mabel wound around his feet and nearly sent him flying off the top step; he steadied himself on the banister, cursing. Trying to shoo her away with his foot ended badly; Mabel stared up at him, her teeth buried in his pant leg. “Really? You’re thinking this is a good idea, cat?” Tony grumbled, giving his leg a lazy shake.

“Clearly, you’re wrong,” Coulson said, plucking the bag from Tony’s hand, “ _She_ thinks it’s a _great_ idea.”

“Very funny,” Tony muttered, starting down the steps to get another bag. The cat hung from his leg the entire way, detaching with a meow when he started across the driveway towards the car; she purred loudly, head-butting his leg as he leaned into the trunk to pick up the last of the bags. He was surprised she hadn’t tried to climb him; there was lunch meat in the bag he was holding, after all, and she seemed to know it judging by the way she was sniffing at him.

“You’re on for tonight’s watch duty,” Coulson said, stealing away one of Tony’s bags.

Tony closed the trunk with a sigh. “I’m well aware,”

“If you want you can get a nap in after dinner,”

Tony lifted his feet cautiously as Mabel reattached to his leg. “That sounds like a good plan,” he grunted, getting them both up the first step with an unsteady move that nearly had him falling over. “I’m assuming everything checked out,”

“It’s all clear,” Coulson said. He stole another bag from Tony’s arm, heading back into the house.

“Hey!” Tony raised his leg again, lifting Mabel up onto the next step. “I had that!”

“I’m sure you did,” Coulson said, reappearing. He swiped the last of Tony’s bags and disappeared inside again, moving too fast for Tony to grab.

“You’re an ass,” Tony called out, getting himself and Mabel up onto the top step; the cat glared at him when he stopped moving. He glared back at her. “This is your fault,” he muttered to the cat, giving his foot another slow shake. She sunk her teeth in deeper; he couldn’t really feel it, but he knew she meant business. “Alright, alright. I give up,” He sighed and hobbled towards the door.

When he made it inside he found Steve and Coulson sitting on the kitchen floor arranging cat toys and food into separate piles; Steve looked up when Tony got closer, grinning at the sight of him still encumbered by the clinging cat. “Can we feed her?”

“I guess,” Tony said, dragging his foot across the floor. Mabel slid a few feet with him and then detached sluggishly from his leg, stretching out her entire body before wandering over to Steve. She sniffed his knee and climbed up into his lap, knocking over Coulson’s tower of cat food with her tail.

Coulson sighed and set the cans back upright without even looking at them, his gaze still trained on a bag of catnip. “Are you sure _this_ was a good idea?” he asked, holding the bag up. Mabel snapped to attention, her tail going rigid, her body tensing.

Tony picked up the cans of cat food, putting them on the counter before they could get knocked over for a second time. “Well, I wouldn’t say it was a _good_ idea,” he said with a grin. Mabel wiggled her back end and flung herself through the air at the bag of catnip, hitting Coulson square in the chest. “I’d say it was a _great_ one.”

 

 

Tony knew he was being punished. It was kind of hard not to know considering the delightful song ringing out of the speakers beside him; it wasn’t that the song was bad, because it wasn’t – Banana Phone was far easy to easy to sing along with once you’d heard it once or twice. The problem was that Coulson had had the damn song on repeat for the past hour and a half, and while Tony was fine with listening to obnoxious music for hours on end if it meant staying awake, it was kind of hard to focus with it looping over and _over_ and _over_. He was faintly aware that his brain had melted half an hour ago, and he wasn’t so sure what time it was anymore. He _did_ know that dinner was long since over, and Steve was curled up on the couch beside him, playing with his stuffed bagel as he sang along with the music, but that was pretty much it.

“He’s staring at us,” Coulson muttered. He was leaning against the living room window frame, staring out into the darkness with a pair of night vision binoculars he had found god-knows-where; Tony was glad he had put window tinting into their security system, because it would have been very obvious to the neighbors that they were spying on them if he hadn’t.

Tony sighed, rubbing his forehead as Banana Phone started up again for the umpteenth time. “Maybe he’s bored,”

“He’s staring _right_ into the living room window,”

“And all he’s seeing a whole lot of curtains,” Tony grunted, leaning back against the cushions. “I don’t see how this a problem – we’ve got cameras all over the place out there. He’s not getting in here unless he drives a tank through the front door, and I highly doubt he’s got the money for a tank.”

“I don’t like it,” Coulson said, setting his binoculars down.

“Neither do I, but there’s nothing we can do about it unless you want to get charged with beating some guy to death in his own house,”

Coulson shot Tony a dark look.

“Sorry – sorry, I’m just kidding,” Tony sighed, closing his eyes. They had agreed not to tell Steve anything _extra_ about their new neighbor unless it was absolutely necessary; Tony hadn’t completely agreed to keep Steve in the dark, but he knew the reasoning was sound even if it did feel a bit cruel to hide things from the kid. Casually mentioning they might have to beat someone to death was _probably_ a bit too vicious now that he thought about it. He really hoped they weren’t going to have to approach the guy. Sure, he could take someone down without the suit, but that didn’t mean he wanted to murder anyone with his bare hands – even if the guy _was_ probably a psychopath. “Look, I’ll keep an eye on his house when you guys are sleeping,” he promised, closing his eyes. “I’ve already got Jarvis working on it – and I’m sure Natasha’s spying on him right now.”

“I don’t like the look of him,” Coulson grunted, casting another glance at the house.

“So you’ve mentioned,” Tony murmured. “Wake me up when you’re going to sleep and I’ll take over the watch,”

“Fine,”

 

 

Tony sat bolt upright on the couch, his eyes wide and panicked. Coulson leaned over the back of the couch and put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Hey – it’s just me,”

Tony gave himself a shake. The images from his nightmare were still playing in his mind; he could see Steve’s terrified face shimmering there amidst a sea of Hawaiian shirts and banana shaped phones. “ _Jesus_ – remind me never to fall asleep listening to children’s music again,” he muttered, carding his fingers through his sweat-slick hair.

“Uh huh,” Coulson chuckled. He dropped Tony’s tablet into his lap. “I’m going to sleep now. Steve’s already tucked in – Mabel’s with him. She’s decided to sleep in the house,”

“Has she now,” Tony muttered, flipping through the security footage. “I’m assuming we’re still good security wise if you’re handing things off to me.”

“I would have woken you up sooner if there was a problem,” Coulson murmured. “Just keep it down, alright? Steve had a hard time falling asleep.”

“Oh?” Tony sat up a little straighter, flicking through the cameras until he could see Steve. The kid was sleeping bundled up under a massive pile of blankets; Tony could see his blankets there, too, bundled up with one of Coulson’s. Apparently someone had decided to build a blanket fort without him; Tony was a little offended that he hadn’t been asked to help out.

“He’s having nightmares about airplanes and ice,” Coulson said, leaning against the back of the couch.

Tony winced. “Shit,”

“Agreed,” Coulson murmured. “He woke up an hour ago and came out to complain about it being freezing cold in his room.”

“Are the blankets helping?”

“I don’t know. I guess so, because he hasn’t come back out again.”

“He doesn’t look all that asleep to me,” Tony said, staring down at the tablet. He watched as Steve rolled over, burying his face under the blankets before the air in the room could get at him. “You going to go in there?”

“I think I’ll leave that up to you,” Coulson said, heading towards his room. “I trust you.” He gave Tony a nod and headed inside, closing the door behind him.

Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. Great. Did this mean Steve was remembering things? Could the spell be weakening? He sighed and heaved himself upright, tucking the tablet under his arm. He wished he had more information about what had happened in the first place. No one had thought about the possibility of the spell breaking down gradually; everyone had just assumed it was going to be a one shot sort of deal.

He knocked on Steve’s door and then pulled it open, slipping inside. “Hey,” he said, approaching Steve’s bed. It was hotter than hell in the kid’s room. With the window closed, there was no air flow, and while the building wasn’t all that insulated, it seemed to be doing a pretty good job of keeping the heat in. He perched on the edge of Steve’s bed, praying that he wouldn’t melt into a puddle of ooze and poked Steve in the shoulder through the blankets. “Coulson said you were cold,”

“Yeah,” Steve said, his voice slightly muffled. “I had a bad dream,”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No,”

Tony cleared some space on Steve’s bed, making himself comfortable against the headboard. He propped the tablet up on his knee and waited, idly watching the beach through the security cameras. It didn’t take long for Mabel to crawl out from under the blankets. Her hair was standing up, wild with static, and she didn’t look pleased by the interruption in her Steve-time. She crawled onto Tony’s stomach and bit him on the chin. “Meanie,” he grumbled, rubbing the abused patch of skin where she had bit him. Mabel nipped his hand and then circled slowly, settling down on his stomach with her body pulled into a tight ball.

“I’m not mean,” Steve said, rolling over again.

“Not you,” Tony chuckled, prodding Steve again. “The _cat’s_ the meanie,”

“Oh,”

Tony flicked through the cameras again, searching for the Hermann Weiss’ house amidst the plethora of feeds. Thankfully their neighbor had decided to leave every goddamned light in his house on so he wasn’t that hard to spot. Tony zoomed in on the living room window, finding that as expected, the guy was sitting on his couch glaring angrily at his television like it had said something rude about his mother. He couldn’t quite see what the guy was watching from this angle, but it must have been something delightfully _liberal_.

“Tony?” Steve lifted the blankets up, wiggling forwards until his head was free from the pile.

“Yep?”

“Are you going to sit here all night?”

Tony looked from the tablet. “Uh, do you want me to go?”

“No,” Steve said with a shake of his head. He wiggled across the mattress until his head was next to Tony’s hip, closed his eyes, and pulled the blankets back in place over top of him. “I’m going to go back to sleep now,”

“Ok,” Tony said, patting the blanketed lump beside him. “You do that. Good night, kiddo,”

“Night,” Steve mumbled.

 

Hermann Weiss was the most boring man alive, Tony decided with a low groan. He had been watching the man for almost three hours now, and he hadn’t really moved from the couch except to presumably go to the bathroom when nature called. He was starting to think the guy was permanently grouchy; there didn’t seem to be any explanation for the behavior. Everything seemed to piss the guy off – it didn’t seem to matter what he did. The TV seemed to make him angry – the bathroom seemed to make him angry. Tony was pretty sure the couch made him angry too, because the guy wouldn’t stop glaring down at it. After a while he started scanning Hermann’s feeds once every fifteen minutes; there didn’t seem like much of a point to keep looking at them. Sure, the guy got up and stared out the window every once in a while, but he didn’t really do anything. It would have been nice if he had done something interesting, but hey, why complain? At least he didn’t have to worry about waking Coulson up or rushing off into the night with Hydra trying to beat down their door. Better yet, Steve was quiet; he didn’t move the entire night, sleeping so soundly Tony ended up checking in on him to make sure he hadn’t smothered himself under the blankets. It was a good night, and yet Tony would have been happier sleeping.

He entertained himself as the night dragged on by prodding Mabel’s back feet every twenty minutes to see if he could get her to crawl off of him. It didn’t work; he got nipped more often than not, and by the time Coulson came to relieve him in the morning, Tony was pretty sure his chin was covered in pink bite marks. He made it back to his bed, slothful and exhausted and collapsed there in the middle of the mattress with a sheet pulled up over him.

 

 

“Stark, you’d better get your ass up,”

Tony groaned and tried to burrow underneath his pillow. “ _No_ ,”

“I need you to sit on the beach with me while Steve plays in the sand,” Coulson said, giving Tony’s foot a tug. “Up, up, up,”

“You’re a cruel man,” Tony muttered, forcing himself upright. He slid majestically out of bed, nearly slipping in his blankets and looked around the room blearily, trying to find the light switch so that he could get rid of the glowing ball of light coming in through the window; someone had unkindly opened his curtains.

“That’s the sun, Stark,” Coulson commented dryly.

“Oh,” Tony grunted, rubbing his eyes. “Well turn it off,”

“Go get cleaned up,” Coulson chuckled. He pointed Tony towards the bathroom and waited patiently in the hallway until he staggered back out before steering him towards the front door. He walked Tony out onto the beach and settled him in a padded beach chair with a cup of coffee and a plate of toast. “Eat,” he commanded, sitting down in a chair beside Tony’s.

Steve plopped himself down in the sand beside Tony with his plastic shovel in hand. “Are you still tired?”

“That depends,” Tony said, sipping his scalding hot coffee. He grimaced and set the cup down in the sand beside him, gnawing on the piece of blessedly over-buttered toast until it was gone. “What times is it?”

“Nine,”

“A.M.?” Tony nearly choked on the last bite of his toast. “That’s – I was only asleep for _three_ hours?”

“You can sleep again later,” Coulson said, leaning back in his chair. He had a pair of binoculars tucked in his pocket, and looked like he was itching to use them.

“You’re a cruel man Phil Coulson,” Tony grumbled. He set the plate down in the sand and picked up his coffee, nursing it. “You’re lucky you made my coffee the right way or I’d be really cranky right about now,”

“He came up to the house,”

Tony nearly upended his cup into his lap. “ _What_?”

“Herman Weiss – he came up to the front door. He knocked and just stood there, staring at me like he was going to skin me alive,” Coulson said, one arm crossed over his hip. Tony could just make out the faint shape of a blade hidden underneath his shirt; he wondered idly what else Coulson had hidden away. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the agent had a bit of piano wire in his pocket.

“What happened?” Tony asked, setting his cup down on his knee. He braced himself for bad news.

“Nothing,”

“ _Nothing_?”

“Nothing. He literally stood there, stared at me, turned around and walked off without saying a single word,”

“You’re _shitting_ me,”

“No,” Coulson chuckled darkly. “I’m not.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Tony grunted. “I’m assuming he didn’t come back with a shotgun in hand, or we wouldn’t be sitting out here,”

“Correct,” Coulson said, turning to face Hermann’s house. “He’s been sitting on his porch drinking coffee ever since he came over,”

“Seriously?”

“Natasha says he ate a breakfast burrito and spent twenty minutes staring at his hands,” Coulson shrugged. “I don’t know what the hell that was about – could be he’s just a grumpy, lonely old man looking for companionship,”

“Let’s hope that’s what it is,” Tony sighed, turning back to his coffee. Sadly there wasn’t much left. He drained the last drops and put the cup down on his plate, wishing he knew telekinesis so he could bring the coffee pot to him without having to do any actual work. He turned and stared forlornly back at the house.

Coulson rolled his eyes and stood up, plucking Tony’s plate and cup from the sand. “I’m not your maid, you know,”

“I know. You’re our Super Nanny,” Tony said with a smirk, leaning back into his chair.

“Keep that up and you’re going to the naughty corner,” Coulson muttered, heading back up to the house.

“What’s a naughty corner?” Steve asked with a frown. He flipped his bucket of sand upside down and started filling it up again.

“It’s a punishment from this show that teaches people how to properly parent their children. They send kids to the naughty corner when they do bad things. Think of it as a time out,”

“Oh,” Steve patted the sand flat. “Do _we_ have a naughty corner?”

“I think you’d have to be naughty first for that to happen,” Tony chuckled. He closed his eyes. A few minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt.

 

“Hallo,” an unfamiliar voice murmured from above.

Tony nearly jumped clean out of his chair. Hermann Weiss stared down at him, his lips curled in a surly grimace. He was wearing the same fuck-ugly Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants he had been wearing when they had seen him the day before in the pet shop, and while he looked clean, there was a distinctly greasy sheen to his skin making it seem like he hadn’t showered in a few weeks.

“Uh… hello?” Tony said, standing up. He looked around for Coulson but he was nowhere to be found; he stepped in front of Steve, trying to block him from sight. He patted his pockets, wishing he had though to bring a weapon with him.

Hermann glowered at him. “Meine Uhr ist kaputt,”

Tony stared at Hermann, confused. “Uh… What? Your watch is broken?” He had taken German language courses at Pepper’s request years ago, but he hadn’t stuck with them for long. Most of what he could say dealt with ‘this is where to turn left,’ and ‘where is the bathroom’; he hoped the guy wasn’t looking for a long, deep, conversation, because then things would be very, very bad.

“Ja! Meine Uhr ist kaputt! Bitte helft mir,” Herman said, gesturing wildly.

“I don’t get it – you want me to fix your watch? Why – Look, are we having a problem here?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. He felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck. He looked at Hermann’s wrist and pasted a smile on, trying not to be confrontational. “Uh, Buddy? You’re not even wearing a watch,”

“Nein! Ich bin's! Sie ist hier!” Hermann said, shoving his arm under Tony’s nose. “Kannst du sie nicht sehen? Bist du dumm?”

Tony stared blandly at the guy’s wrist, fairly certain he had just been insulted. “I can see your wrist, buddy – it’s a very _nice_ watch. Very nice. Maybe you need to sit down – drink less? I don’t know – stop smoking whatever it is you’ve been smoking?”

“Bierficker!” Hermann snapped, pointing at his wrist. “Saftsack!” He glared at his wrist as though he wanted to tear it off with his own teeth.  

“Look – maybe I can help,” Tony said, raising his hands in front of himself. “Let’s just calm down, alright? Let’s just calm down and –”

Hermann grabbed his belt and started undoing it.

Tony gaped at him. “Whoa – _buddy_ – there’s a _kid_ here,” Tony hissed, taking a step backwards. “Steve – get behind me. Don’t look at him – _Listen_ – Hermann? Can I call you Hermann? Please don’t – hey – look stop that –”

Before Tony could so much as move, Hermann had yanked his pants down around his ankles; Tony caught sight of panties – white with little red hearts on them – and froze.

He _knew_ those panties.

Where the hell had he seen them before?

“Oh my fucking god,” Tony muttered, staring at the pair of pants around the man’s ankles. He looked up, following the line of the man’s legs. He knew he had seen skin there, if only for the briefest second – but now there was nothing but fabric. Hermann was still perfectly dressed, only he now he was wearing what appeared to be two pairs of pants; one was still buttoned up, while the other lay pooled in the sand around his ankles. Tony recognized the hologram – recognized the way the fabric hung and moved. This could only be one person. “ _Clint_?”

Hermann’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Tony Ich kann nicht Englisch sprechen,” he said, gesturing to his wrist. “Meine Uhr ist kaputt,”

“Shit – your _watch_ – _oh_!” Tony grabbed Clint by the wrist and felt around. Sure enough, there, lurking beneath the hologram was the holographic display watch he had given Clint before they had parted ways. Tony’s touch made Clint hiss in pain; he yanking his arm back, and gave Tony a dirty look, clutching his arm to his chest. “ _Arschloch_ ,”

“It’s bad?” Tony asked. He gingerly took Clint by the wrist again, turning his arm over to get a better look at where he knew the holographic display watch was clasped in place. He pressed at it with his thumb and jerked his hand back when the watch zapped him. “Fuck!”

“What the hell is going on here?” Coulson roared. He came charging across the down the beach house steps, still holding the cup of hot coffee and the plate of toast he had gone inside to get. He tensed as he looked between Tony and Clint, his hand raised, ready to brain the stranger with the coffee cup.

“Relax – I need you to sit down, Phil,” Tony said, pointing to the chair behind him. He grabbed ‘Hermann’s’ wrist and pressed his thumb down harder against the back of the holographic display watch, grimacing through the pain as electricity coursed through them both. There was a shriek – metal grinding against metal – and then a soft, warped electronic chirp sang aloud. The holographic display watch materialized so fast it looked a bit like it had teleported there onto Clint’s wrist; the damage to it was incredible, as was bruising on Clint’s skin. It looked like the archer’s entire _arm_ had been soaked in purple dye. It was a miracle Clint could move his hand at all.

Coulson swayed for a split second before dropping unceremoniously into Tony’s vacated chair; Steve nimbly dived out of the way as the cup of coffee and plate with toast hit the sand beside him with a dull thud.

“Clint?” Coulson’s voice was hoarse.

Clint grinned weakly. His face was pale and bruises of purple and green were wrapped around his throat; there was a thin red line running along his chin where the skin had been stitched up in a crooked line. He had likely done the work himself with a needle and thread; all the SHIELD agents had field medicine training, but Tony had never seen it first hand before – at least not when Clint was in the picture. Usually the archer was too careful – too good at his job to get anything more than a cursory scrape or scratch. Clint waited, shifting in the sand impatiently while Tony worked the watch free from his wrist. He all out dove onto Coulson, wrapping his arms around him so tightly they both grimaced in discomfort. The chair creaked angrily and flipped over, sending them both sprawling backwards into the sand.

Coulson’s laugh bordered on hysterical. “You goddamned _asshole_!”

“I’m sorry,” Clint giggled, burying his face in the crook of Coulson’s neck. “I’m so, so sorry,”

“Don’t be sorry,” Coulson murmured, stroking Clint’s hair. “Don’t ever be sorry – you came back,”

“I had to,”

“I thought you were dead,” Coulson said, his voice finally breaking. He dug his fingers into Clint’s tie-dyed t-shirt. “I thought you were dead!”

Tony looked down at Steve, trying to hide the way his eye were tearing up. Damn allergies. “Maybe we should let them have some alone time, ok, sport?”

Steve scooted towards Tony, stooping to pick up the plate and cup, ever the little gentleman. Tony took him by the hand, leading him towards the porch where Mabel was sunning herself on a cushion; she looked up, giving them a cursory sniff and then went back to ignoring them, wiggling her toes at Tony.

“Well at least someone’s going to get some sleep today,” Tony muttered. He took the plate and cup from Steve, setting the dishes down on the railing and sat, patting the bench beside him. Steve sat down beside him, not quite able to touch the floor.

“Are they ok?” Steve asked, turning to glance at Coulson and Clint, lying together on the beach. Clint’s lower legs were still caught in his pants; he had his face buried in Coulson’s shirt, so Tony couldn’t tell for sure but he was had a feeling that both of them were crying.

“They’re ok,” Tony said, ruffling Steve’s hair. He smiled, turning his attention back to the holographic display watch in his hand. He sighed, inspecting the damage further, turning the watch over to get a better look at the circuitry; it was a lot easier than looking at the two lovers hugging on the beach – that was for sure. The holographic voice and image components were still functional, but the main motherboard had suffered crush damage somehow – that was likely the reason Clint had been stuck speaking German and glaring at everyone with Hermann Weiss’ face. He was going to have to take it apart with his tool kit and hook it up directly to his tablet to get all the details, but he was pretty sure he knew what he was going to find even without the extensive examination. The damn board was corrupted, which was probably why it was pulling up and locking in imagery it had found in the database Tony had made for it – and it had been using those features without permission, he might add. He had no idea where the watch had found a goddamned Hawaiian shirt _that_ ugly; he sure as hell hadn’t put it in there. Maybe it had been Jarvis’ doing – although the AI wasn’t particularly fond of Hawaiian shirts either. Shit – speaking of Jarvis, there was someone else they needed to tell about Clint’s masterful reappearance – assuming of course that she hadn’t already seen it through the cameras.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, calling Natasha without looking away from the watch. She answered almost before he could think of what to say.

“Did you phone to gloat or is this more than just a social call?” Natasha drawled over the line. She sounded bored; Tony wondered if it was a ruse or not. She always had been hard to read over the phone – not that she was any easier to read in person.

“Did you want to come over and talk to big bird?” Tony said, setting the watch down on the cushion beside him.

“I’d rather not get in the way of the happy reunion,” Natasha said with a sigh. “They’re probably going to be at it for a while.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, casting another glance at the beach. “Looks like it.”

“Tell them they can head back to Clint’s house and enjoy a free day,” Natasha said.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. This way, they get it out of their system and you don’t have to listen to them knocking boots,”

“That’s… no. I didn’t need that mental imagery,” Tony muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m assuming you’re punishing me for something now,”

“You phoned to tell me something I already knew,” Natasha chuckled. “I have the cameras open in front of me, you know. I saw the entire thing as it happened.”

“And you really don’t want to come down here and talk to him? No lectures? No hugs?”

“I can do all of that later. Let them have their day. You _are_ capable of being up all day, aren’t you?” Natasha asked with a hum. “You’re looking a little unsteady there, Stark,”

“I’m tired,” Tony grumbled, glaring at the broken watch. “But I’ll be fine. I’ve gone longer without sleep – you know that,”

“But you haven’t had to entertain a small child at the same time before,”

“Steve’s a good kid,” Tony said with a snort. He cracked a smile, meeting Steve’s gaze. “He’ll be fine. _We’ll_ be fine. I’ll let them know when they come back from frolicking on the beach,”

“You’re going to repair the watch, aren’t you?”

Tony sighed. “I’m going to have to – if they see Clint anywhere near us they’re going to come running. He hasn’t said anything yet, but I’m pretty sure they’re looking for him. I don’t know if they think he’s dead or not,” Tony said. He tucked Steve under his arm, wishing he could do something to block out the rest of the conversation so that Steve didn’t have to overhear anything unpleasant. “But they obviously tried. He’s pretty battered,”

“So I saw,” Natasha sighed. “Do you think he needs medical attention?”

“Well, let me see. He _looks_ like he got run over by a bus a half-dozen times – he probably got choked out too judging by the bruises on his throat and his face looks like it was stitched together by a blind guy with shaky hands,” Tony grumbled, “He should have been in a hospital a few _days_ ago. Right now he looks like he’s handling it, but who knows? You’re going to have to ask Coulson,”

“I’m sure I’ll get the full report,” Natasha said, dryly.

“Yeah,” Tony chuckled. “Sure. You keep believing that.”

“You think he’s going to hide something from _Coulson_?” Natasha sounded amused.

“I think he’s going to avoid some of the messier details unless they’re something we need to know,” Tony sighed. “I would know – I’m the same way according to Pepper,”

“Well she’s right, you know,”

“Obviously – speaking of her,”

“She’s fine. She and Happy are busy planning their wedding like every other couple not concerned about murder plots and crazed Hydra agents lurking in the streets. She told me to tell you to keep out of trouble or she’d stomp on your Captain America trading cards,”

“She _wouldn’t_ ,” Tony said, narrowing his eyes. “I’m saving those,”

“For who?”

“Who do you think?”

“I think he’ll cry when you give them to him,” Natasha chuckled. “It better be on his wedding night, or Coulson’s going to leave Clint at the altar,”

“ _Ha Ha_ ,”

“He loves that stuff – he’d sell his first born to replace the set Fury ruined,”

“And that’s why the cards are sitting in my vault at home,” Tony chuckled. “So tell Pepper to leave them alone,”

Natasha sighed. “What are we going to do now?” It was the first time Tony had ever heard Natasha sound uncertain; even when they had been in the thick of things, battling robots with bombs and nuclear weapons, she had never sounded so hesitant.

“I guess I’m going to rebuild his watch, and we go from there,” he said after a minute of silent contemplating and planning. He knew what Clint needed – the decision wasn’t a pleasant one, but it was something that needed to be done.

“And what are you going to do with the kid?”

Tony looked down at Steve; the kid looked up at him, confused by the sudden attention. “I’ll think of something.”

 

 

Tony was glad he had brought a box of spare parts with him in case of emergencies; it would have been damn near impossible to get the holographic display watch running again without them. His toolkit he could have worked without; the parts were irreplaceable, as was the tablet hook-up that let him tap into the watch’s core coding. With the tablet’s help, it took him mere minutes to unlock the frozen system, forcing it once more to change languages and appearances at the press of a button. That said, it still took him _far_ longer than he would have liked to get the watch back in pristine condition. With Clint and Coulson ‘ _honeymooning’_ in Clint’s rented beach house, it was just him and Steve and while the kid was well behaved there wasn’t much Tony could do to keep them both working for long – that, and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open for more than an hour at a time. God he felt old. He was pretty sure Steve thought it was funny, but the little guy was way too polite to point out when he was nodding off every time he sat down.

When he was done with the watch, having pounded all the dents out of the casing with a chisel and rubber mallet, he took his watch off and put the repaired one on, doing what he hoped was the only trial run it would need. The watch instantly pulled up the late Hermann Weiss, surly scowl and all, painting the man’s image on Tony’s body, masking him completely. Tony toggled through, moving from hologram to hologram until he was satisfied that the watch was running flawlessly. He took the watch off and put it down on the table, putting his back on; better to be safe than sorry, he thought with a yawn as he clipped his watch back in place. Even if Natasha was watching everything, he didn’t want to get caught with his proverbial pants down. He leaned back, intending to phone Natasha to tell her the good news and promptly fell asleep.

 

 

“Tony?”

Coulson’s hand was warm on the side of Tony’s neck. Tony mumbled a hello and tried to go back to sleep, sliding against the side of the couch until he crashed into a snoring Steve. He shook himself awake, rubbing the heels of his hand against his eyes; Steve gave a little snort, but kept on sleeping.

“Oh god, did I fall asleep again?” Tony moaned in despair.

“Damn right you did,” Clint snorted, flicking Tony in the ear. “You’re really bad at this, Stark,”

“He’s exhausted,” Coulson grumbled, giving Clint a dirty look. “Give him a break,”

“Oh please,” Clint said, shaking his head. “Steve’s the one I almost get _murdered_ for, and Stark’s in here taking a _nap_.”

“Knock it off,” Coulson said, softly, his expression pained. He gestured to the kitchen, taking off his jacket and throwing it over the back of the couch. “I made meatloaf,” he said, “Steve’s already eaten, so don’t worry about waking him.”

Tony heaved himself upright; he was just about ready to murder the crick in his neck. He frowned when he noticed the way Clint seemed to almost be _glaring_ at him and stumbled to the kitchen table where there was a plate of meatloaf, potatoes, green beans and gravy waiting for him. It was still piping hot, he realized, as he dug in. It probably hadn’t been there for long. “Ooh! Meatloaf,”

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Coulson said, sitting down in the chair across from Tony. “We were, uh…”

Tony waved the question away. “Don’t worry about it. If I was in your position, I would have done the same thing,”

Coulson smiled crookedly. “I’m sure,”

Clint grabbed the chair Steve usually used and spun it around, sitting down beside Coulson, resting his chin on the back so that he could peer across the table at Tony. “So, you two are fake _married_ , huh?”

Tony winced. Well this was a conversation he had been hoping to avoid. Why did people always ask him the awkward questions? “Something like that, yeah,”

“Well, you’re _divorced_ as of now,” Clint said, eyeing his fingernails over the back of the chair.

“I guess so,” Tony said, swallowing down his mouthful of meatloaf. God it tasted good; he was going to miss this. “I have to say – this was probably the best marriage I’ve ever had,” he said, nodding to Coulson.

Coulson chuckled. “It’s the _only_ marriage you’ve ever had,”

Tony shrugged. “Still counts,”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Whatever,”

“What’s wrong Barton? Bitter much?” Tony chuckled.

Clint flushed an unpleasant shade of red. “Shut up,”

“ _Whatever_ ,” Tony said, spearing a green bean with his fork. “So uh, I guess I’m going to be switching places with you, huh?”

“Excuse me?” Coulson said, frowning.

“I can switch places with Clint – All I need to do is switch the holograms and I can be Herr Crankypants and he can be your doting husband – no fuss, no muss,” Tony said. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way or anything. I mean, it would look kind of awkward if there were three guys in here,”

“That’s true,” Clint said with a grin. “People might _talk_ ,”

“Yep,” Tony said, scooping up the rest of his meatloaf. “The last thing we need is more attention on us, and if the town thinks you’re cheating on me, well, it’ll probably get ugly,”

“It’s a nice thought,” Coulson said with a sigh, “but it’s not going to happen.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“What are you talking about?” Clint sounded hurt. “I’m not good enough to be your fake husband or something?”

“It’s not about you,” Coulson said softly, putting a hand on Clint’s shoulder. “It’s about what Steve wants,”

“ _Fuck_ what he wants,” Clint growled, shrugging Coulson’s hand off of his shoulder. “He’s _seven_ – he can put up with a few days without Stark hanging around like his goddamned mother. I want to stay here with you,”

“ _Clint_ ,” Coulson murmured, “I know what you mean, and believe me, I want it too, but it’s not a good idea right now,”

“We don’t have to make this thing full time you know. We can trade off or something if you want,” Tony said, pushing his plate away. “Two days him, two days me? That evens it out a bit,”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to talk with Steve about it,” Coulson said, trying once more to put his hand on Clint’s shoulder. “I’m not going to make a decision like this while he’s sleeping and doesn’t have a say. He’s just a little kid honey – he’s uncomfortable enough without his mother around. I don’t want to traumatize him or make things worse by taking away one of the only people he trusts,”

“Oh, but it’s ok to make things worse for me?” Clint said, standing up. “What the fuck happened when I was gone, huh? Did you guys _really_ get married?” He spun his chair around pushed it in, storming into the living room. Tony was glad Steve slept like the dead, because if he hadn’t the little guy would have woken up already.

“What the fuck, Barton,” Tony growled, standing up. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem,” Clint hissed, grabbing his holographic display watch off of the coffee table where Tony had left it, “is none of your business,”

“When you start yelling, you make it my business,” Tony snapped. He picked up his plate and carried it to the sink, scraping the dregs of his meal into the garbage can to keep from going after Clint. He knew what it felt like to be separated from somebody he cared about – from his family and friends – so he couldn’t exactly blame Clint for the rude behavior; it hurt, but he could take it. “He said his priority was to keep Steve comfortable. How, _exactly_ , is that something bad?”

“You don’t have a fucking clue, do you,” Clint snorted. “You’re just walking around here in a blissful haze,”

“Hey!” Tony said whirling around.

“It’s true,” Clint said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’d have to be blind not to see it,”

“Fuck off,”

“Can we not argue about this?” Coulson huffed. “Steve’s sleeping – you’re going to wake him up,”

“Yeah, that’s right – worry about mini-Steve’s beauty sleep,” Clint snapped. He put the watch on and dialed through the holograms until he had Hermann Weiss pulled up; his face, this time, matched the unpleasant tone to his words. “I’m out of here. This is _bullshit_ ,”

“I’m not chasing after you,” Coulson said, shaking his head.

Clint froze. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“I’ll talk to you in the morning. Right now you need to cool off,”

“You’re – I can’t _believe_ you,” Clint said, his hands falling to his sides. “All I wanted was one goddamned night and you’re turning this into a fucking nightmare,”

“No, Clint – I’m not,” Coulson said, standing up. “I love you – I really, _really_ love you, but this isn’t about love and it’s not about us. This is about the mission – and that means I have to put my feelings for you to the side. I want to sleep with you again – I love waking up with you,” Coulson said, moving closer, “but I can’t let it compromise the mission. It might get Steve killed,”

“He’s _not_ going to get killed! He has you and me and Stark and Natasha looking after him – the fucking _Winter Soldier_ isn’t going to get anywhere _near_ him,” Clint retorted.

“He’s out there and we don’t even know what he really looks like. That’s dangerous enough,” Coulson said. “I can’t risk it. I _won’t_ risk it.”

“You’re a fucking moron,”

“Stop swearing at me,” Coulson said, crossing his arms over his chest. “People who love each other don’t talk to each other that,”

“Well, I’m _mad_ ,” Clint snarled, heading to the door. “I can say whatever I want,”

“That’s right,” Coulson snorted. “Go ahead. Leave. It’s not going to change my decision. We’re still talking in the morning,”

“Whatever,” Clint said, throwing open the door. He was decent enough at least to not slam it behind him as he left.

Coulson sat down in his chair at the table again, slumping forwards. He looked far more tired than he had before; it was as if he had aged twenty years in a matter of seconds. His hand was shaking, the tremor so fine Tony might not have noticed it if he hadn’t been watching him.

Tony sighed. “So much for your happy reunion,”

“You can say that again,”

“I wonder what crawled up his ass and died.”

Coulson chuckled darkly. “ _Tactful_ as always, Tony,”

“I try,”

Coulson let out a heavy sigh. “I knew it was coming,”

“You did?”

“He’s been moody all afternoon,”

“Oh?”

“He got angry when I made meatloaf,” Coulson muttered, resting his elbows on the table. “He _hates_ my meatloaf, although I don’t know why,”

“So why did you make it?”

“I made it because you and Steve like it,”

“Ah,” Tony said, setting the plate down on the counter with the rest of the dirty dishes. “Well, at least you know what the problem is,”

“Yeah,” Coulson said, shaking his head. “I guess I do,”

Tony yawned into his arm; he grinned sheepishly to Coulson, trying to force himself to stay awake. The damned meatloaf was working far faster than he had expected. He felt like an ass when he dropped into his chair and rested his head on the table.

“You should get some sleep,” Coulson murmured.

“Yeah,” Tony mumbled. “I’ll get up in a minute,”

“I’ll put Steve in bed,” Coulson said, softly. He carded his fingers through Tony’s hair. “I’ll take the watch today and tomorrow,”

“You don’t need to do that,” Tony yawned into the table. He blinked sleepily up at Coulson. “Hey, look. I’m sorry things turned out like shit,”

Coulson shrugged. “It could be worse. He could still be dead,”

“True enough,” Tony sighed. He stood up, slowly pushing his chair in. “It’ll be alright. He’ll get over whatever it is that’s bothering him,”

“I know,” Coulson said.

“Alright,” Tony yawned, staggering towards his room. “See you tomorrow morning,”

“Yeah – see you tomorrow,”

Tony stumbled into his bedroom; he wobbled and decided to hit the bathroom before passing out. He liked his sheets clean and dry, after all. He was pretty sure he fell asleep on the toilet twice before he managed to get himself back to his bed. He hoped to god Natasha wasn’t watching him.  

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning brings a friend - and he's a bit of a hobo.

Tony yawned into his arm as he poured a measured handful of coffee beans into the grinder; being awake just wouldn’t be worth it until he had his coffee ready and he was going to have to make it himself today. He had taken the liberty of putting Coulson to bed the minute he had woken up and had hit the kitchen shortly after, breaking out the eggs and bacon as soon as the grinder had finished its good work. Today was going to be a goddamned disaster no matter what they ate, but it was worth trying to start things out right. Pepper had said that a lot to him when they were dating; it had always struck him as odd when she had said that in the mornings, half-awake, sitting with a cup of tea clutched in hand but then again, their relationship always had been a bit odd.

Steve stumbled into the kitchen when the coffee was percolating, looking a little bit like he had been wrestling with his blankets; his hair was sticking up in places, and there were faint lines from his pillow on his cheek. “Good morning,”

“Morning, buddy,” Tony said, flipping the bacon. He gestured to the kid’s hair, trying not to laugh at the sight of it. Adult Steve wouldn’t have left his bedroom with hair like _that_ , even if you had offered him a thousand bucks; the guy was obsessed with maintaining military standards, and he always seemed to need to be clean shaven and groomed even when he was only throwing on a pair of sweats and one of those overly-tight white shirts of his in order to spend a day at home lying on his couch. Tony tried not to feel guilty about knowing that particular part of Steve’s daily routine; it wasn’t like he got his rocks off by spying on Steve’s apartment, after all. He just _happened_ to keep tabs on _everyone_ ; it was what he did. It made him feel better to know that they were all taken care of. He cleared his throat. “I see you’ve got a massive case of bedhead today,”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Steve said, shuffling closer to Tony. He leaned against Tony’s leg, his cheek pressed up against Tony’s jeans. “Is Clint going to come back? Or is he still mad at me?”

Tony resisted the urge to call Clint an asshole in front of the kid; he sighed aloud instead, resting his hand on the top of Steve’s head. “It’s not your fault he’s mad,” he said, smoothing down Steve’s bedhead. “He’s just grumpy because he wanted to stay here last night.”

“Is he not _allowed_ to stay?” Steve asked, his voice wavering. “Why isn’t he allowed to stay?”

Tony dropped his hand onto Steve’s shoulder. “It’s not that he’s not allowed to stay – we just need to decide how we’re to arrange everyone. We’ve got three people living here already, and if people see another guy randomly moving into our house they’re going to ask questions,”

“Does that mean someone’s going to have to leave?” Steve’s voice went from unsteady to small.

“It might,” Tony said, turning the burner off. “It’s alright though. They won’t be that far away,”

“Really?”

“Really,” Tony said, leading Steve towards the kitchen table. He hoisted the kid up and put him in his chair. “Look,” he said, kneeling down in front of Steve, “you need to hear this, ok? None of the fighting that’s happening is your fault, ok?”

Steve nodded his head, although he didn’t look like he was really agreeing with anything Tony had said. Kids, Tony thought with a sigh, were far too good at blaming themselves for things that weren’t their fault. “Steve,” Tony said, squeezing Steve’s foot. “Listen, Clint and Coulson are going to have to work this out themselves. They’re the ones responsible for the fight – not you. It will never, _ever_ , be your fault. It might sound like it, but you have to remember that it’s just a lot of angry words, ok? They both care about you, and they’re worried about what’s going to happen in the future,”

“Can’t Clint stay here though? Why does he have to go away?” Steve asked, hugging himself.

“He doesn’t have to go away,” Tony said, standing up. He went back to the stove and plated Steve some food, setting it down in front of him. “We’ll probably trade off. He’ll stay here a couple of nights looking like me, and I’ll go to his place looking like him,”

When Tony turned around, Steve was crying. “Hey,” he said. He sat down and scooting his chair closer so he was bumping knees with the kid. “What’s wrong?”

Steve put his face in his hands. “I don’t _want_ you to leave,”

Tony scooped Steve up, hugging him close. “I’m not going to leave forever. It’s just going to be for a day or two – and I’ll be right here, really. You’ve seen the house Clint was in, right?”

“Yes,” Steve sniffled, burying his nose in Tony’s neck.

“I’ll be right there. We can see each other, and I can come over and play with you during the day. I just won’t be in the house at night,”

“But what if I have a nightmare?”

“Tell you what,” Tony said, rubbing gentle circles on Steve’s back, “You can phone me whenever you want. It’ll be like when I had to go to Japan, remember?”

“Do you _have_ to go?”

“We need to talk with Clint and Coulson before we decide,” Tony said. He lifted Steve up, gently untangling himself from the kid’s vice-like grip and set him down on his chair again. “Eat your breakfast, ok? We can –”

The doorbell rang; it rang again and again and again until Tony unlocked the door and threw it open.

Hermann Weiss’ face scowled at Tony as Clint crossed his arms over his chest. “Took you long enough,”

“You do realize the doors aren’t _automatic_ here,” Tony growled. He stepped out of the way just in time to avoid being elbowed in the face; Clint shoved past him, heading towards Coulson’s room. “And take off your goddamned _shoes_ ,”

Clint’s loafers hit Tony in the back.

“Jackass,” Tony muttered as Coulson’s door opened and closed with a creak.

Steve stared at Tony, his fork held aloft above his bacon. “Did we do something wrong?”

“No,” Tony sighed, kicking Clint’s loafers over to the pile of shoes by the front door. “He’s just being a jerk.” He walked over to Coulson’s door and banged on it. “You two better not be doing what I _think_ you’re doing!”

“Fuck off Stark!” Clint growled.

“Can you take Steve outside?” Coulson rasped through the door.

Tony scowled. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” Coulson squeaked. He pulled the door open a crack and peered out; it didn’t take a genius to spot the hickeys on his neck. “Just – can you take him out onto the beach for breakfast? We’ll be out later,”

Tony rolled his eyes and pulled the door shut. “Assholes,” he muttered. He stalked over to the table and scooped up his breakfast, tucking his fork under his plate. “Let’s go outside, buddy,”

“But I’m still in my pajamas,” Steve protested, picking up his plate. He followed Tony to the front door, peering curiously at Coulson’s bedroom door. “Is someone screaming?”

Tony grabbed Steve’s shoulder and shuttled him towards their shoes. “Nope. You didn’t hear anything – give me your plate and take our shoes outside, alright?”

“Alright,” Steve said, offering Tony his plate. He dug his shoes and Tony’s out from under the pile, holding on to them like they were made of porcelain and he was afraid of breaking them. He followed Tony out onto the porch after they wrangled the door open, stopping to look back only once when something heavy hit the wall in Coulson’s bedroom.

 

 

Tony was getting sick and tired of finding sand in his underwear; he pulled his socks off in lieu of going for what was really bothering him and gave them a shake, ridding himself of even more sand. He never had been very fond of sand, and he was starting to like it even less now that it wouldn’t leave him the hell alone. He was going to have to invent a better vacuum cleaner, because the old nineteen seventies piece of crap he had found in the closet wasn’t going to be able to handle things for long. Thankfully, he was the only one internally screaming because of the sand. Steve was happy digging holes and filling them back up again; he had been doing it for the past two hours and didn’t seem to be ready to stop any time soon. Tony leaned back in his beach chair, phone in hand, and wondered if he should call Natasha to check in with her. He tensed when a jeep drove up the road towards them.

Who the hell was _this_? He checked the security cameras, but they weren’t much help aside from stating the obvious; he took solace from the fact that Natasha wasn’t pinging him and forced himself to relax when the stranger – a tall man in his mid-thirties – got out of his jeep and walked over to them. The guy was dressed in a pair of board shorts and a baggy blue shirt that looked like it had seen better days; his brown hair hung lazily against his chin, just as greasy and unwashed as the rest of him. His left arm was bandaged up, wrapped in a dull crème coloured cotton. Ah, Tony thought, pursing his lips, this was probably their new neighbor. Mr. Carwash. Fantastic.

The man grinned and walked up to them, gracefully avoiding a bunch of splintered driftwood as he made his way closer to Tony. “Hey,” he said, gesturing to the piece of paper he had brought with him. “Can you point out where my place is, pal?” He handed the paper to Tony and waited patiently while Tony looked it over.

“Uh, it looks like you’re over there,” Tony said, pointing at the house beside Hermann Weiss’. If this guy couldn’t even figure out door numbers, it was probably a miracle that he knew how to use the brakes on his jeep. Jesus. “So you’re our new neighbor, huh?”

The guy grinned widely. “Yep, looks like it.” There was a hint of a Brooklyn accent to his voice, although it seemed faded. The guy probably hadn’t been home in a while.

“Nice to meet you, pal,” Tony said, holding out a hand.

Steve dropped his bucket; it tumbled to the sand, rolling towards Tony’s foot. His eyes widened as he looked the stranger over. “ _Bucky_?”

Their new neighbor cocked a smile at Steve, giving Tony’s hand a firm shake. “Who’s Bucky? Somebody I should know, kiddo?”

Steve’s mouth snapped shut. He stood up slowly, inching closer to Tony until he was almost cowering beside him. He tugged frantically at Tony’s shirt, his cheeks going as white as milk. “Can we go inside now? I have to pee,” he whispered.

“Alright,” Tony said, letting their neighbor’s hand drop. Steve’s fingers remained trapped in Tony’s shirt; Tony hid his confusion, eyeing the stranger again to see if he had missed something. Was Steve seeing things? Or were his adult memories seeping through somehow? The kid couldn’t know what Bucky Barnes would look like as an adult – at least not for certain – but it sure seemed like something was up. Tony made sure he cracked a smile at the stranger. “Sorry about that. You know how it is with kids. They don’t really have filters. I’m Richard Bell, by the way – this is my son Timmy,” he said, gesturing to Steve. “We’re here on vacation with my husband Carl,”

The man looked amused. “Oh, uh – nice to meet you. I’m John Tanner,”

“Sorry to talk and run, John,” Tony said, scooping up Steve’s shovel and bucket. He handed them to Steve and hoisted the kid up into his arms. “Nature calls, and all that,”

Steve stared over Tony’s shoulder at John as they walked away, gnawing feverishly on his lower lip. “Are you _sure_ you’re not Bucky?”

John flashed Steve a smile. “Pretty sure. I think you’re mistaking me for someone else, kiddo,” he said with a laugh. He headed back towards his jeep, whistling as he went, his map tucked under his arm.

 

Tony got them into the house in record time; he shut the door behind them, locking it tightly and leaned against it, letting out a slow breath. He was starting to think his life – hell, the lives of all the Avengers – was cursed. It was just their luck this guy looked like Bucky – and he did, too, if you got past the long hobo hair and the whole I’m-a-dead-beat grin. Tony had seen more than enough pictures of James Buchanan Barnes from his time during the war to know what he had looked like; they had been in the briefing folder Coulson had given him, and while he hadn’t been too happy to leaf through them he had done it because it had felt like the right thing to do at the time. After he was done, he had tucked them carefully out of sight in case Steve had come upon them. It would have been too hard to explain why Bucky had been wearing army clothes – why Steve himself had been standing there beside him.

Tony set Steve down on the floor and peeked through the curtains out the front window, watching as _John Tanner_ or whatever his name was, got back into his jeep and drove over to the right house this time. The guy must have been pretty pathetic if he hadn’t even been able to read a goddamned map. Hell, the woman who rented the cabins out had given them a tour before they had settled in just to make sure they knew their way around, so what the hell was this guy’s problem? Had they missed something?

“Tony?”

Steve looked like he was on the verge of crying again, so Tony bent down and gave him a hug. “You did a good job out there, squirt,” Tony said, petting Steve’s hair for lack of anything better to do. “You knew something was wrong, and you let me know about it.”

“He looks just like Bucky,” Steve whispered into Tony’s ear.

“I know, buddy,” Tony sighed, “I know.”

“But Bucky’s with my mother, right? So it can’t be Bucky,” Steve mumbled.

“Yeah,” Tony said, wishing the twist in his gut would just fuck off, “He’s with your mother.” Truth be told, Bucky Barnes’ body had never been recovered, and Sarah Rogers was buried in a cemetery somewhere in New York; unless there was a heaven or something out there, it wasn’t likely they were anywhere near each other. Thankfully, only Adult Steve knew about that particular ‘open secret’.

Tony scooped Steve up again, carrying him into the kitchen; his back groaned in protest and he reminded himself for the umpteenth time that hauling around a seven year old was a bad idea. He glared at Coulson’s closed door, gritting his teeth as he set Steve down in a chair the kitchen table. “You two love birds done in there?”

“No!” Clint yelled.

“Yes,” Coulson growled, heaving the door to his bedroom open. He was perfectly coifed when he emerged, although the scowl on his face made it clear that he had done it only because had to. He walked into the kitchen and turned on the kettle, pulling a box of tea out of the cupboard.

“Gee,” Tony said, trying not to laugh when Clint strode out into the living room wearing nothing but a sheet, “Let me guess what you two were up to,”

“Now is not the time, Stark,” Coulson growled, slamming a teabag into his mug.

“No,” Tony said, his hands migrating to his hips in a way that would have made Pepper laugh at him, “Now is the _perfect_ time. We just met our new neighbor, and I have to say, I’m not very happy,”

Coulson’s shoulders slumped. “What happened now?”

“The guy looks like Bucky Barnes,”

Coulson turned slowly, looking at Steve as though he was surprised the see the kid still there. “You’re kidding,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

“I’m not kidding,” Tony grunted. “Did _we_ know about this?”

“No. We did not. The picture doesn’t match the one we had on record,” Coulson sighed, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out, dialing Natasha’s number as he poured water into his mug. Clearly, their conversation was over. “Natasha? Right. Yes, he just told me,”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Great. I’ll just be over _here_ , staring at the table like an idiot,”

Coulson waved at Tony, his gaze on his tea. “Yes, Natasha. I saw – or rather, Stark saw. Is this a problem?”

Tony sat down in a chair at the table, dragging it over so that he could sit beside Steve. “You ok, buddy?” he asked, patting Steve’s shoulder.

“I guess,” Steve said, staring down at his hands. He wiggled his thumbs, pursing his lips, and looked up at Tony through watery eyes. “Does this mean we can’t go outside anymore?”

Tony rested his chin on his palm. It would have been nice to have an answer for that question, but it wasn’t like he was the one with the tactical stealth training; judging by the way Coulson was still talking on the phone, he wasn’t the only one without a clue, so he tried not to feel _too_ bad about it. “I have no idea, buddy,” he said. “I guess we’ll find out when Coulson gets off the phone,”

Steve sighed and looked back down at the table. “I wish I hadn’t said anything,”

“I know,” Tony said with a soft smile. He smoothed Steve’s hair down with the flat of his hand. “But you did the right thing saying something.”

“I guess,”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out – we always do,” Tony chuckled. “Why don’t you go get your colouring book or something – we can mess around with that until Coulson’s done,”

“Ok,” Steve said, his dour mood immediately brightening. He hopped down from his chair and ran off into his room, nearly braining himself on the door in his haste.

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Dude, you are so _whipped_ ,”

Tony scowled. “Shut up,”

“Loser,”

“Nudist,”

“ _Children_ ,” Coulson growled, picking up his cup. “I’m on the phone. Cut it out.” He walked over to the kitchen table and sat down, sipping while still listening to whatever it was Natasha was saying to him. “Yes, I understand. So what do you think? Leave or stay?” He cocked his head to the side, frowning. “Alright, I guess we can manage that,”

“What?” Tony murmured, leaning closer.

Coulson rolled his eyes and pushed Tony gently away from the phone. “Alright. We’ll see you tomorrow morning. Good bye, Natasha,” he said, hanging up. He sipped his tea again, frowning at his phone until its screen had gone black.

“So?” Tony asked. He was tempted to grab Coulson by the shoulders and shake the information out of him.

“We’re staying. Natasha says she’s pretty sure the guy is harmless, although she _was_ surprised that his face didn’t match the ID and credit card he paid with. She’s been watching his house, but he hasn’t done anything other than eat a bag of Cheetos and turn on the television. She’s pretty sure he’s ok, but she says to keep on guard just in case.”

“Oh, of course,” Tony nodded, trying not to laugh. “Seems like he’s a swell guy. He’s probably committing identify fraud as we speak.”

“I don’t know about that. He’s probably not smart enough to pull something like that off. His hotel room was covered in garbage when he checked out, and they’re looking for an address to bill him, so I highly doubt he’s walking around conning people out of their identities.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think that?”

“Fury had some SHIELD Agents step in and look the place over once he cleared out. They didn’t find anything strange – although they did say they found a bunch of bandages soaked in some kind of fluid in the sink. We’re waiting on lab results for that, but they don’t think it’s anything serious. He had roller blades in his trunk, so he probably scraped himself up or something.”

“Right,” Tony sighed. “So do we take the kid outside or keep out of sight?”

“At this point,” Coulson said, setting his cup down, “I think we’ve got to head outside again sometime soon. Your bathroom break line would look pretty obvious if you didn’t show up outside again,”

“Oh, _thanks_ – I appreciated the help this morning, by the way.”

Coulson at least had the decency to look abashed. “Look – I didn’t – I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,”

“Yeah, well – I assume you two have though about what _Clint_ stepping out the front door is going to look like?” Tony snorted. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “How are we going to deal with _that_ little gem, by the way? Am I switching with him, or what?”

“We’re sticking with the original plan,” Coulson said, eyeing Clint over the top of his cup. “And it would be nice if you put on some clothing,”

Clint flipped him off and pulled his sheet up higher, batting his eyelashes at Coulson. “It’s not my fault you’re can’t stand seeing man-nipples in the living room.”

“ _Clint_ ,” Coulson sighed wearily, “For Pete’s sake, stop it. Just get dressed and put your watch back on. It’s bad enough you’re naked in the living room – Steve’s going to be back any second,”

“Whatever,” Clint grumbled, getting up. He sauntered back to Coulson’s room with the sheet wrapped around him like an elaborate wedding dress and slammed the door behind him.

“He’s a real _peach_ ,” Tony grumbled.

Coulson chuckled darkly. “You haven’t seen anything yet,”

“I don’t think I want to,” Tony grunted as Steve flew back into the room, crayons and colouring book in hand. “Hey – what are we going to colour in today?” He pulled out Steve’s chair and made room for him on the table, smiling as Steve spread out his colouring book; it was the Avengers one Thor had bought the kid at the airport. Steve had already coloured in half of it, and seemed to have a real thing for Captain America. Go figure.

Steve arranged his crayons on the table, setting them up by shade. “Can we colour this one?” he said, pointing to a park scene where Captain America and Iron Man were busy beating up a bunch of block-shaped robots.

Tony grinned. “Sure.”

 

 

Dinner went over well, aside from the slight temper tantrum Clint threw when Coulson reheated some of the meatloaf. It was almost like being at home again – well, aside from the fact that Clint was going to have to go back to his beach house for the night. Tony curled up in his chair and watched idly as Steve drove his plastic cars around the coffee table while Coulson and Clint talked quietly on the couch. Tony thumbed through the security camera feeds, searching lazily for excitement, but couldn’t find anything more interesting than Mabel approaching. He got up to let her in before she could claw her way through the front door. She trotted up to Steve and head-butted him in the shin before slinking off to Tony’s bedroom to take a nap.

“It’s almost eight,” Coulson commented, his arm draped over Clint’s shoulder.

Tony yawned into the back of his hand. It was his night to keep watch, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. There was only so much of the feeds he could watch, and while he was all for keeping an eye on everything, he would have loved to dump the task on Jarvis. He wouldn’t really do that, of course, but it was a nice thing to daydream about.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Clint grumbled, stretching out. He planted a kiss on Coulson’s lips and stood up, straightening out his sweater. “Unless you guys want to walk me over?”

Steve looked up from his cars, glancing at Tony. “Can we?”

“Alright,” Coulson said, getting up. “But you’re going to bed right after, mister,”

Steve put his cars down with a sad sigh, hanging his head. “Ok,”

Tony chuckled and stretched his stiff muscles, dragging himself out of his warm, comfy chair. If he was lucky, when they got back he could catch a nap before Coulson went to sleep for the night. He stooped down and picked up Steve’s cars before Clint could step on them and set them in a neat row on the coffee table; the left wheel on the thunderbird was looking a bit shaky, and he was itching to break out his screwdrivers and tonight would be the perfect time for fiddling.

 

 

They made it out the door in record time, even with Clint dogging it like a master procrastinator. The walk across the beach was a bit more brisk than usual, but the company more than made up for it. Clint’s beach house seemed far too close, all things considered; they were on the steps before they knew it.

Tony pulled Steve off to the side and let Coulson walk Clint the rest of the way inside; he didn’t really feel the need to watch more happy smooching tonight, even if he was happy the two had worked things out. He led Steve off towards the surf and watched as the kid played with a bit of broken driftwood shaped like a hockey stick; he snapped a few pictures with his phone, laughing when Steve almost fell over when the chunk of drift wood got stuck in the wet sand. He added the images to his folder of Steve pictures and sent it off to Jarvis to make sure he wouldn’t lose anything. And of course that was when Steve all out shrieked in horror. Tony looked up from his phone, tensing – readying himself for battle – and saw Steve pointing at something human-shaped, lying sprawled in the sand a few feet away. It was surprising they had missed him, really, considering the way he was singing aloud, his voice slurred, his words incoherent; that part was probably for the best, because even if Steve couldn’t understand the gist of the song, Tony sure could and it wasn’t even _remotely_ child friendly. He was tempted to slap his hands over Steve’s ears.

“Hello,” Tony called out, sticking his phone into his pocket quickly to free up his hands. He approached the drunken man cautiously, aware that he could be walking into a trap. When he got closer he was able to make out who the guy was; he couldn’t say it surprised him. John Tanner, it seemed, had brought himself a few bottles of whiskey and was drinking himself into a stupor as the tide inched closer to his bare feet.

“Hey, pal,” John said, saluting Tony with his empty bottle.

Tony wrinkled his nose; he could smell the guy already, and he wasn’t even that close to him. He had been in breweries that smelled better. There was a very distinct hint of Cheetos mixed in with the scent of whiskey and body odor too. “Hey to yourself,” Tony said, eyeing John and the rising tide. “Out for a swim or something?”

John shrugged, letting his bottle fall to the sand beside him. “Nah, man,” he said, flopping backwards into the sand, his hair spreading our around him in a grubby halo, “I’m just here for the _stars_ ,”

“Right,” Tony said. He heaved a sigh. “I’m assuming you’re aware that the tide is coming in,”

“Oh man,” John slurred, lifting his head so he could squint at his feet. “So _that’s_ why my toes are wet. _Nasty_ ,”

“That’s _one_ word for it,” Tony muttered under his breath. “Maybe you should get up and go pass out on your porch or something. Seems like a better option than drowning.” And it was, Tony thought with a shudder. He would know.

John flopped pitifully. “No can do, pal,” he said after a minute, his hand slapping against the soupy sand. “I think I’m stuck,”

“Great,” Tony grumbled. He looked around the beach but couldn’t spot Coulson. The bastard was probably still inside stealing kisses. He sighed aloud, motioning for Steve to back up. “Alright. How about I give you a hand there, big man,”

“Much appreciated,” John slurred, raising his arms.

Tony grasped him by the forearm and bent at the knees, heaving John into a seated position. The guy looked around, dazed, and then turned back to Tony with a look of pure admiration on his face.

“Man – that’s _awesome_ ,” John said, grinning crookedly.

“Yeah,” Tony grunted, giving John’s arm another tug, “being upright’s a real treat,”

John managed to get to his feet after one more pull, but he couldn’t quite walk in a straight line; Tony wasn’t surprised. The way the guy’s eyes were glazed over, it was a miracle he had managed to get upright without throwing up all over himself. He didn’t really want to have to escort the guy to his house, but the way John was staggering made it clear he wasn’t going to make it back home without help. Reluctantly, Tony pulled John’s arm over his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him from falling over. “Alrighty then,” Tony said with a grimace, nodding for Steve to follow along behind them, “Let’s go for a little walk,”

John staggered along easily, still grinning, as they traipsed their way through the sand towards his house. “I _love_ you guys,” he said, rubbing his forehead against Tony’s chin. He was blessedly free of coordination, so the sloppy kiss he tried next fell short of the mark, getting Tony on the collar bone instead of the lips. Tony gritted his teeth and kept moving. This was all _Clint’s_ fault. The archer was going to _pay_ for this.

Thankfully their trip didn’t take long. When they hit the first step of John’s beach house, he pulled free and took a staggered step forward, trying to catch the railing. He didn’t seem to mind when he went face first onto his porch; he just lifted one arm and gave Tony a backwards thumbs up. “Thanks, pal,”

“You sure you’re going to be alright up there?”

“Yeah,” John said, his voice muffled by the porch. He rolled over onto his side and curled up, yawning into his arm. “I’m good. See you later, man,”

“Uh huh,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. He turned back to Steve and let the kid lead him back down to the beach. He pulled his phone out of his pocket the moment they got out of range and scrolled through the security footage to make sure he hadn’t been played for a fool; sure enough, three hours previous there was John, staggering out into the darkness, the bottle of whiskey in hand. Tony scowled at the video. He hadn’t seen it happen, but he knew Natasha probably had. He dialed her number, casting a glance over his shoulder at John’s house. He could still make out John’s feet sticking off the edge of the porch.

“Stark?” Natasha’s voice was weary. “What do you want?”

“Why didn’t you say anything about Tanner getting wasted on the beach?” Tony asked, nudging Steve towards a pile of shells. “Go, _frolic_ ,”

“I’m assuming you’re saying that to Steve, and not me,” Natasha murmured.

“Uh huh,”

“I didn’t think he was a problem. He was drinking in his house before he came outside. I’m surprised he made it as far as the beach,”

“Well, he did,” Tony growled into the phone. “I don’t think I’m going to be very happy if we find him dead in the sand tomorrow,”

“Oh?” Natasha laughed. “I don’t think you have much of a choice in the matter. He seems to like drinking, and unless you’re planning on sitting up with him all night, holding his hair while he throws up, he’s on his own,”

“You know what I mean,”

“Yes, yes,” Natasha muttered. “Fine. I’ll keep an eye on the idiot. If he drowns himself in vomit or water – or whatever – I’ll give you a heads up,”

“Thank you,” Tony said. He chuckled when Steve started stacking shells in neat piles, sorting through the new bits brought in by the tide. “So how are things going?”

“They’re going,” Natasha said.

“Nothing new to report?”

“Nothing of interest. Your cat is busy getting hair all over your pillow,”

“That’s not news,”

“That’s all I have to offer,” Natasha chuckled. “Tell Clint to keep it in his pants,”

“I’ve already tried that,” Tony said with a huff.

“Then try harder,” Natasha said. “I’ve seen enough of his bare ass for the month.” She hung up on him before he could agree with her. He sighed and turned back to Steve, still diligently playing with his shells. This was going to be a long week.

 

 

The night was long and hot; Tony spent most of it sitting on Steve’s bed while the kid shivered away under every blanket in the house. Coulson checked in on them every few hours but there was never anything to report, and no change to Steve’s condition. In the morning, Coulson took his place and Tony trudged off to bed to fall into a peaceful sleep with Mabel wrapped around his head like a furry hat.

When he woke up, it was nearing one in the afternoon and the house was quiet. It took him a minute to figure out that there really was no one around; he couldn’t even find Mabel, and usually she was too lazy to get up unless someone chased her off. He heaved himself upright, grabbing his phone as he went and staggered through the house, peering in rooms, wondering where everyone had gone. He made it to the kitchen table and found a note sitting there, waiting for him. _Went for ice cream was written_ there in Clint’s familiar blocky script. He scowled, crumping the note up, and threw it into the garbage can under the sink. He took out his phone and pulled up the surveillance, double checking to make sure nothing was off. Sure, the note _looked_ like it was Clint’s, but for all he knew it had been written at gunpoint – not that he thought Coulson and Clint could be taken down so easily. He sighed to himself as he watched Coulson and Clint play with Steve, pushing away a wave of irrational jealousy. It was fine; he was being crazy. What were they _supposed_ to do? Wait around twiddling their thumbs while he slept? He shut down the surveillance feeds, stepping into the kitchen to find his coffee bean stash. If he was up, he might as well make himself some coffee.

 

 

Tony threw himself down onto a beach chair and set his scorching hot coffee cup on his knee. He ran his fingers through his hair and realized belatedly that he hadn’t even bothered to clean up that morning; he hadn’t brushed his teeth or hair, and while he knew he was supposed to feel bad about it, he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. It wasn’t like anyone could tell, after all. Holographic display watches were good for that kind of thing. He took a sip of his coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste. There hadn’t been any sugar left in the bowl or milk in the fridge. Clint had to have finished it all, because Tony knew for a fact there had been enough the night before; unfortunately he hadn’t thought to check if it was still there before he had brewed up his coffee, and with no way to turn back time, he was forced to drink the bitter brew as he had no intention of wasting it.

“Hey, pal,”

Tony swung his head to the left, internally grumbling when he saw who was talking to him. John Tanner smirked at Tony; he was lying in the sand a few feet away, holding a bottle of cola to his chest like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Hello, John,” Tony grunted. He swung his legs over the side of the beach chair and sat sideways, eyeing John over his cup of coffee. The guy looked a lot better than he had the night before, but that wasn’t saying much; he still looked like he needed a few thousand showers. “How’s the day treating you?”

“Good so far,” John said, shrugging. He took a sip from his bottle, letting out a belch loud enough for Tony to hear. “Where’s your brood, man?”

“My brood?” Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Oh,” he chuckled. “They’re off gallivanting in town. They went out for ice cream,”

“And you didn’t go?” John looked startled. “What’s up with that?”

Tony snorted. “I slept in,” he said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice, “I guess I got what I deserved.”

“That’s _harsh_ ,” John said, sipping his cola again. “It’s weird that your hubby took that creepy guy with them though,”

Creepy guy? Oh – _Clint_. Right. “Ah yeah – well, Hermann’s a friend of the family,”

“Pal,” John said, looking around carefully as though he expected someone to walk up behind him, “You might want to watch out for him. I think he’s hitting on your man,”

“You’re kidding,” Tony said, completely deadpan. He had a hard time not laughing in John’s face.

The guy looked a little bit like he had been kicked in the nuts with a steel toed boot; he sat up straighter, hunching over his bottle of cola with a dour look on his face, locking eyes with Tony despite the awkward angle and the distance between them. “I think he’s cheating on you,”

Tony feigned surprise. “He _wouldn’t_ ,”

“He totally is,”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked, curious. He had known _someone_ was going to say something once Clint started touring town with Coulson and Steve at his side, but he had assumed it would take a wee bit longer for the chatter to start up.

“You should have seen the look in your guy’s eyes,” John said, whistling. “Looked like he was going to melt into a puddle of goo,”

Tony shook his head sadly. Well, it had been a good run all things considered. It was kind of hard to dispute the lovey-dovey aura floating around Clint and Coulson; it would have been nice if they had been able to tone it down a bit – at least for a little while, but apparently it was a little too late now. If the drunken car wash attendant in front of him could see it, damn near everyone could. He wondered if he could get away with chewing them out for it. Nah, he thought, taking a sip of cooling coffee. Natasha would probably rip his balls off if he tried to say anything to them, even jokingly. She and Clint gossiped like old ladies, and he knew whose side she would take. “That’s… I don’t know what to say to that,”

John shrugged again, tipping his bottle so that he could drain the last of the soda. He belched again, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and tossed the bottle away from him; he didn’t even seem to notice the scowl on Tony’s face. “I don’t know, pal,” John said, sounding almost breathless. He nodded towards Tony’s beach house, leaning back until he was comfortable in the sand again. “I feel for you. My wife dumped me the same way,”

“What makes you think my guy’s going to do that?” Tony grunted, finishing his coffee. He put the cup down on his knee, grimacing at the bitter taste in his mouth. It was weird; he kind of felt offended on Coulson’s behalf, and they weren’t even _married_ for real.

“That’s what they do, _pal_ ,” John said with a snort, closing his eyes. “You trust them, and then they dump your ass the moment someone better comes along,”

Tony bit his lip to keep from agreeing outright. It wasn’t like he had ever had anyone stick around long enough for him to really know for sure if he had been really, truly, in love but he knew what it felt like to be dumped for someone better. That was life, after all – that was old hat for him these days. Sure, he played games sometimes and slept around, but he had always lost more than he had gained doing that; it would have been nice, though, to have gotten something out of it for a bit. It would have been nice to have some stick around – even if it ended badly. Any love was better than nothing – even if it was fake.

God, he was losing his mind.

Why was he thinking about Steve, _now_?

He was supposed to be talking about his ‘marriage’ to Coulson and here he was, thinking about Steve Rogers.

Stupid _Steve_. Why did he always butt into everything?

It wasn’t like Tony had asked to be here. It had just sort of happened and yeah – ok – sure, he would probably enjoy teasing the super soldier when this was all over and done with; it wasn’t like they were going to end up friends. Steve was like Coulson. He had things to do – a life to live, and Tony wasn’t really a part of that even if they were on the same team. When Steve was back to normal, he was going to get up, shake Tony’s hand and wander off home like a good little soldier. Tony blocked out images of Adult Steve and Sharon Carter walking down the street hand in hand; something twisted in his chest. It was stupid. He barely knew Steve – Steve barely knew _him_. So why did it feel like he was mourning a loss he had never had? He looked down into his cup, intending to get up and leave without saying anything. Goddamn it, he had just wanted to drink his fucking coffee in peace, and now he was feeling like shit all over again.

John started snoring wetly like a beached elephant seal.

Tony got up and stalked back inside, cup clutched tightly in hand. He dumped the coffee cup in the sink and crawled back into bed, pulling the covers up over his head.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accidentally calling Pepper had probably been a good idea...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if there is anything weird here! Thanks again - oh! And Thanks to karieskaries on Tumblr for helping me get the German in the previous chapters right!

Tony didn’t really fall asleep; it would have been easier if he had. Instead, he lay curled up in a ball under his blankets, trying to work out how he was going to swap out with Clint without making Steve start bawling. It would be better to cut ties now before it got any harder to say no to the kid, he reasoned with the uncomfortable twist in his gut. He pulled his phone out from under the covers and his speed dial 1. He regretted it almost immediately and quickly mashed the end call button, but it was too late. The call had gone through, even though she hadn’t picked up.

Shit.

Pepper phoned back before he had a chance to text her an ‘oops’. He swallowed down his bitterness and answered cheerfully, setting the phone on his pillow beside his head. “Hi, Pepper,”

“Tony,” Pepper sounded breathless. “Is something wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, no – it’s fine. I butt dialed you, that’s all,” Tony said, the lie coming out easily.

“Tony,”

“Seriously, it was an accident. I’m sorry I freaked you out. I should have let it go through, but I thought I caught it in time, that’s all,”

“It’s alright,” Pepper said, her voice turning soft. “How are you doing? I was hoping you were going to check in at some point, but Natasha said you guys were pretty busy,”

“They’re out right now,” Tony said, closing his eyes. It was good to hear Pepper’s voice again; maybe this hadn’t been a mistake after all. “They took Steve out for ice cream,”

“They?” Pepper sounded amused. “Who’s they?”

“Coulson and Clint,”

“ _Ah_ ,” Pepper murmured. “I guess that means they made up then?”

“Seems like it,”

“You’re feeling like the third wheel, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Tony muttered, his fake cheerfulness finally drained away. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, honey,”

“It’s not that bad,”

“ _Tony_ ,”

“It’s not! I swear,”

“You can talk to Phil about it, you know,”

Tony tensed. He dug his fingers into the sheets beneath him. “I know,”

“Do you want to come home?”

The question was simple, and Tony knew the answer even without having to think about it. “Yes,” he said. He buried his face in his pillow, shamefaced. He wanted to go home more than anything. He missed his bots, and his work – he missed being able to design things. He missed being useful. “But I can’t. What do you think I should do?” Tony asked, softly. “I don’t know what to do with him. I think I like him, and it’s just…”

“Did you _not_ want to like him?” Pepper sounded amused. “You _like_ being around him, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Tony muttered. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands. “I just want it to the feeling to stick around for a while, you know? It’d be nice to actually get along with him when he isn’t _seven_ years old,”

“You think he’s going to forget about everything you’ve done for him?”

“With my luck, he’s probably going to turn back into an adult and give me shit _again_ for stealing his fucking bagel,” Tony muttered. He could just see it now; Steve would probably scream himself blue in the face, and no stuffed bagel would _ever_ appease _him_. He curled in on himself, moving closer to the phone. “I don’t know what to do Pep – just tell me what to do,”

Pepper was silent for so long, Tony was afraid they had been cut off. He lifted the phone to check if they still had signal and nearly dropped it when she started speaking again.

“You’re a good man, Tony,” Pepper murmured. She sniffled, taking a moment to get her voice back. “Listen to me. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t remember anything you did for him. _We_ remember – your _friends_ remember. We’ll tell him – and if he’s too stubborn to listen to Rhodey, or the rest of the Avengers, then I’ll just have to come down there and hit him with my heaviest pair of Jimmy Choos until he gets it,”

Tony started laughing. It wasn’t the best laugh; it hurt, and the sound that came out was bordering on hysterical, but it felt good after lying there for so long brooding about the future.

“I’m assuming that means you’re feeling a bit better now,” Pepper said with a dry chuckle.

“Sure,” Tony wheezed, wiping at his eyes. Visions of Steve being chased around by an angry Pepper wielding her shoes like a mace were still dancing around in his head and he loved every second of it; if he had been able to record things in his mind, he would have sent that one to his private server to watch whenever he felt a down. Maybe that was something he was going to need to look in to in the future. “God – that’s good,”

“Uh huh. I had a feeling you would like it,”

“So how are things going with you and Happy?” Tony asked, trying to be casual about it. It was still a teensy bit weird to hear details about her impending wedding, but he really _did_ want to know all the details; he had been meaning to ask her about it before he had left to meet Coulson, but he hadn’t been able to catch her in time. When they had been dating, it hadn’t been _her_ buying the wedding magazines; _he_ had been the one with the drawer full of fabric samples and the binder filled with pictures of wedding dresses, place settings, tuxedos and flower arrangements. At the time he had argued that it was just good planning on his part. He needed to test the structural integrity of everything – no one wanted a hole in their pants or a tear in their dress on their wedding day, after all. She had kindly smiled at him, and told him he was thinking too far ahead. He had a feeling she didn’t quite see things the same way anymore, not now that she was in it for the long haul with Happy. He knew all _about_ her little red binder, the one she had put together when she and Happy had first started dating, and it had been teasing her about it – at least for a day or two. After that he had gotten serious and offered to help her out any way possible. Hell, he had been the one supplying all the wedding dress pictures; he had ripped them out of his binder and given them to her. It had seemed like such a waste to keep them hidden away in his considering no one would ever see them except for him.

“Oh – _oh_! I need to tell you about the _dress_ ,” Pepper said, her voice turning dreamy.

“You finally picked one?”

“Oh god, yes, and it’s _beautiful_ ,” Pepper said, practically squealing. “I have to send you a picture. Hold on,”

Normally she didn’t get this excited even if he gave her a whole cartload of shoes, Tony mused, so this had to be good. Tony smirked. “Is it one I know?”

“ _Maybe_ ,”

Tony rubbed his hands together. “Which one? Is it the Mermaid? Tell me it’s the mermaid,”

“You’ll see when you get the picture,” Pepper said, primly. “There. I sent it.”

Tony’s phone buzzed. He rolled over and held it up above him, using his knees to keep the blanket up. There, immortalized in crisp pixels was Pepper wearing a strapless white wedding dress; the edges of the dress were trimmed with soft floral lace which tapered off into a smooth white bust line. The dress accentuated her hips and then flowed out like a mermaid’s tail as it made its way to the ground, ending in a flourish of detailed lace flowers. He wanted to hug her tightly and never let go; the smile on her face was breathtaking and even though she wasn’t actually done up for the wedding yet, she looked gorgeous. She always did, of course. She could have been smeared in muck and wearing a barrel held up by suspenders and she would have been gorgeous to him, but right now she looked like she was ready to light up the entire world. His heart clenched a little with the realization that this was final. She was gone from the market for good – not that he had made the mistake of thinking that there was anything left between them other than friendship. He was happy for her; he was happy for Happy too, the lucky bastard.

“You picked the dress I gave you,” Tony said, his voice cracking.

“I know,” Pepper said, softly. “I’m sorry. It was too perfect to pass up,”

“What colour are the bridesmaids dresses?” Tony asked, clearing his throat before she could figure out that he had started crying. He saved the picture to his private server and changed the phone’s settings to speaker phone, propping it up against his knee so he could still see it through his tear-filled eyes.

“They’re sea foam green,”

“Natasha’s going to look like the little mermaid,” Tony chuckled, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“I know. She’s going to murder me, but they were just so adorable and they were all in stock and on _sale_ ,”

“Hey,” Tony muttered, frowning at the phone. “I said I’d pay for everything,”

“You’re walking me down the aisle, Tony,” Pepper said with a snort. “You don’t need to pay for _anything_. Besides – if you did, you’d make Happy cry,”

“He would _not_ ,”

“He would _too_. You know how he is about that kind of stuff. He thinks it’s bad enough that I still let you buy me shoes all the time,”

“Oh, _please_. Your shoes aren’t that expensive. I spend more a month on my suits. I _wanted_ to buy the dress for you,”

“While I appreciate the thought, I think Happy feels like he’s supposed to be the big man in this relationship, so that means no butting in and paying for everything like usual. If you do that then we’ll both be in for it, and I for one am not going to be talking him out of the bathroom on my wedding day because he found the bill and figured out that you paid for it all without telling anyone.”

“You’re wearing the dress right now, aren’t you?” Tony asked, deliberately ignoring what she had said. He was going to find a way to help her pay for the wedding somehow, and if that meant sneaking money into her bank account or stuffing a bunch of it into an envelope and hiding it in her apartment, so be it.

“ _Jealous_ , Mr. Stark?”

“Happy’s going to catch an eyeful if you’re not careful,”

“Jarvis is watching out for me,”

“Lucky,”

“What? Am I lucky because I can wear the dress, or am I lucky because I’m not going to get caught?” Pepper teased.

“You know the answer,”

“Tell you what,” Pepper drawled, “You can pick one out for yourself and when the wedding’s done, we’ll wear our dresses and have a night in together. It’ll be great. Happy will pout, but he’ll just have to suck it up,”

Tony chuckled. “Sounds like fun. Let me know when you’re getting hitched and we’ll make plans,”

“Alright,”

“Hey, can I show Phil the dress?”

“What’s this about a dress?” Coulson said, opening Tony’s door.

Tony grumbled and pulled his blankets down, lifting his phone out from under them. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

“Of course I know how to knock,” Coulson said, smiling, “I just figured I didn’t have to.” He walked around the bed and leaned over to get a look at Tony’s phone. “Oh! Is that Pepper’s wedding dress?” He put his knee up onto the mattress and stared at the picture, going a little starry eyed. “She looks _beautiful_ ,”

“Thank you Phil,” Pepper said through the phone. “Tony found it for me.”

Coulson sat down on the edge of the bed, balancing himself precariously with one hand pressed into the mattress. “It’s a very impressive find,”

Tony shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was something I had lying around,”

Coulson smiled. “Why am I not surprised?”

“So how was your trip out for ice cream?” Pepper asked.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it was _fine_ ,”

Coulson patted Tony on the shoulder. “It was pretty boring, actually. We decided to bring home dinner because no one wanted to cook,”

“I’m not surprised. I think I saw Clint glaring at the stove once,”

“I’ve seen him do it too,” Coulson chuckled. “He hates anything that takes longer than thirty minutes to cook,”

“Aww – poor baby,” Tony sniffed, glaring at the phone. Everyone gave _him_ shit for not cooking his own food half the time, but when Barton did it, it was _cute_. Gee – Thanks. Assholes.

“I’ll let you boys get to dinner then,” Pepper said with a laugh. “Take care of yourselves, alright? Don’t make me come down there to knock some sense into you,”

“We’ll behave,” Coulson said solemnly. “I promise. I’ll tell Steve you said hi,”

“You do that – and Tony?” Pepper’s voice turned soft again. “Remember what I said, alright?”

“I will,” Tony said with a stiff nod. “It’ll be fine.”

“Talk to you guys later,” Pepper said. “And don’t do anything too stupid,”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep him on task,” Coulson said.

“You can _try_ ,” Tony muttered as the phone went dead. He moved to pull the blankets up over him again and was shocked when Coulson plucked them out of his hand. “ _Hey_!”

“I think you’ve slept enough for today,” Coulson said, dryly, stealing away Tony’s phone. He pulled his leg off of the bed and folded the blankets in half, putting them well out of Tony’s reach.

“Look, I’m still kind of tired,” Tony muttered, crossing his arms over his chest to recover some of his lost blanket-warmth. “Why don’t you go feed them or something?”

“I meant what I said earlier,” Coulson sighed. “I’m sorry we didn’t wake you up to go get ice cream. I thought we would be back faster than we were, but by the time we got out there the place had a line halfway down the road. Steve was pretty upset about it,”

“What? Why?”

“He wanted to bring you back an ice cream cone, but by the time we got to the car again the damn thing had melted,”

“Oh,” Tony said, dropping his arms. He smiled, touched that Steve had thought about him. At least _someone_ had.

“Don’t give me that look,” Coulson grumbled, prodding Tony in the chest. “We went back and bought you a tub of their homemade gelato to make up for it.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Oh _really_?” Well, maybe Steve hadn’t been the only one thinking about him after all. He knew there had been a reason he had liked Coulson.

“Steve picked it out,”

Tony couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “I _guess_ I could eat,”

Coulson rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he said, heading out the door. “The food’s getting cold,”

 

 

Tony threw himself down onto the living room floor and groaned in despair, squeezing his eyes shut. “Stupid _food_ ,” he muttered. He really shouldn’t have eaten that last burger, but it had called out to him, its intoxicating aroma wafting towards him, and he hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to devour it. Now he felt like he had swallowed a baby, and there was no way he was going to be getting up soon unless someone brought in a forklift. He groaned again, covering his eyes with the back of his arm and tried to get comfortable.

He squinted up at the couch trying to see if there was anything soft close enough to grab; there, sitting perched on the edge of the couch was the most beautiful pillow Tony had ever seen. It was sparkling like it had been placed there by the gods – on second thought, that part was probably a hallucination. He made grabby hands, trying to get a hold of it, but he just couldn’t reach it. Clint looked down at him and pulled the pillow closer to himself, rolling on top of it with a sly grin.

“ _Bastard_ ,” Tony growled.

“First come first serve, Stark,” Clint chuckled.

“You’ll pay for this, Barton,” Tony muttered.

“Sure. You keep telling yourself that,” Clint said. He yawned and stretched out, curling around the pillow until he was almost completely blocking it from sight. “Wake me up when Natasha gets here,” he called out to Coulson. He closed his eyes and snuggled close to the captured pillow, letting out a contented sigh.

Steve sat down beside Tony, unknowingly putting a stop to Tony’s vengeful machinations before the engineer could even think them up. He leaned against Tony’s side as he shifted his cars from the coffee table to the floor. “Hey!” he said, looking from his Thunderbird to Tony with something akin to awe in his eyes. “You _fixed_ it,”

“Of course I did,” Tony grumbled, squirming along the floor to find a better patch of hardwood to lounge on. Sadly, the move couldn’t do anything to make it any less uncomfortable. He gave up, shooting Clint a scowl, and dropped his arms onto the floor again.

Steve flipped the car over, marveling at the now ruler-straight screws. The undercarriage had been a real mess before Tony had gotten his hands on it – not that it had been Steve’s fault. The damned thing had come that way straight out of the box, and Tony hadn’t had the heart to make Steve return it so they could get something better; there hadn’t been an identical replacement for the Thunderbird at the time, and the kid had been really taken with it despite the damage, so Tony had figured what the hell; it wasn’t like he couldn’t fix it himself. It hadn’t taken much effort on his part to get the toy in working condition again. It had been kind of fun, actually. The model he had bought Steve from Japan was still waiting for them in its box at home, and he couldn’t wait to get back to it.

“Thanks!” Steve said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Not a problem, little guy,”

“Do you want to play race track with me?” Steve asked, setting the Thunderbird down on the floor. He picked up his pink Viper, and set it down on Tony’s stomach, using him like he was a parking lot.

“Nope,” Tony whined, shaking his head.

Steve pouted and rolled the Thunderbird up and down Tony’s stomach. “Really?”

“Really,” Tony grunted, shifting until the Thunderbird was no longer rolling over his gut-fat like it was a makeshift speed bump. Oh god. He was pretty sure he had just narrowly avoided throwing up. Well wasn’t _that_ lovely. Stupid gelato. Stupid, delicious, gelato. “Seriously – let me digest a bit and I’ll be right with you, buddy,” he said, flopping his arms weakly against the floor.

“Ok,”

Steve left the Thunderbird where it lay on Tony’s stomach and picked up his Viper again turning his attention back to the living room. He crawled across the floor over to the end of the coffee table, his brows furrowed in concentration, and started driving the Viper around in circles, meandering his way around the coffee table legs like a professional driver; Tony was impressed. The kid didn’t hit his head on the coffee table _once_ , even though he wasn’t looking up.

Coulson stepped over Tony’s bloated belly and sat down on the couch beside Clint, lifting Clint’s legs out of the way so he could get a couch cushion of his very own; Clint begrudgingly made room before pushing his feet into Coulson’s lap with a yawn, reclaiming his stolen space. Coulson grumbled and set a mug of tea down on the coffee table, scowling at Clint’s feet. He pulled his book out from where it had ended up under Clint’s hip, smoothing the cover down with the flat of his hand. “So,” he said, turning to the page he had marked, “How was your day, Tony?”

“He slept through most of it,” Clint scoffed, worming his feet further across Coulson’s lap.

“I made coffee and went – _oh_. By the way, you owe me cream and sugar, _Clint_ ,” Tony said. He tried to grab Clint by the foot and missed; he let his arm drop down to the floor again, too tired to make a second attempt.

“We can go get some more tomorrow,” Coulson said, flipping pages. “And stop that.”

“Our neighbor thinks you’re cheating on me,” Tony grunted, his fingers easily finding Coulson’s pant leg despite the fact that he was busy staring at the insides of his eyelids. “I think he was worried about my honor or something,”

Coulson raised an eyebrow. “He thinks I’m cheating on you? And why is that, exactly?”

“We’re still married, remember?” Tony asked, flashing Coulson a cheeky smile.

Coulson bumped his foot against Tony’s ear. “Of course I remember,”

“Well, everyone else knows it too, so it would probably be a good idea if stop the whole cutesy I’m-in-love thing you do when your boy-toy is around. Maybe tone it down a little,” Tony said. Coulson nudged him in the ear with his big toe; Tony swatted his foot away. “Seriously, our drunk of a neighbor figured out you two were knocking boots in _one_ day. If he could see it, everyone can see it – trust me.”

Coulson sighed, gingerly setting his bookmark back in place. “I see what you mean,”

Clint sat up, glowering down at Tony with his pillow clutched in his hand so hard his knuckles were white. “You’re a real piece of work, Stark. You can’t blame _him_ for this,”

“Shut up,” Tony snapped, opening his eyes so he could glare up at Clint. He was getting tired of Clint’s bullshit. “I’m not just pulling this out of my ass – I went outside to sit down and drink my coffee – minding my own goddamned business – and there he was sitting out there on the beach. _He_ started the conversation! It’s not like I went out there and started asking him what he thought about my sham of a marriage!”

“You could have told him to fuck off! You’re the _husband_ – you could have told him you’re in an open relationship or something,” Clint growled.

“Yeah, and _that_ would go over well. You want me to go out there and antagonize the drunk by telling him to fuck off because I’m sleeping with two _different_ guys while under the same roof as a little kid? I’m sure that’ll work to our advantage,” Tony snorted. “OH! That sounds like a great idea!” He lifted himself up on his elbows so he could lock eyes with Clint. “Look, I get it. You seem to be under the impression that I’m dumb as a stump, Barton, so I’m only going to say this _once_. I have looked at the battle plans – hell, I have _memorized_ them, and I know what _will_ and _could_ go wrong at any given point in time. I may not be a _superspy_ like you – or a goddamned _super soldier_ , but I know how easy it is to fuck up if you don’t stick to the plan.”

“Oh please,” Clint snorted. “Like you ever stick to the plans Cap makes. You do what you want – why do you think he yells at you?”

Tony bristled. “I listen to his goddamned plans,” he said. He was just about ready to wind up and sock Clint in the jaw. “I always listen. Yeah – sometimes I edit them on the fly, but I always listen!”

“Out of curiosity, what makes you think we’re _not_ sticking to the plan, Tony?” Coulson asked with a sigh.

“You’re going out together with Steve, Phil. It draws a lot of unwanted attention. Clint was seen in town glaring at us like we were pond scum and now the three of us are besties? That’s a little hard to take, even for me,”

“Oh, I get it,” Clint growled, standing up. “You’re jealous because you didn’t get to spend time with the kid today,”

“For fuck’s sake,” Tony hissed, wanting to tear out his hair, “this has nothing to do with jealousy! This has to do with safety! It’s not safe having Steve out there if we’re drawing attention to ourselves! We may as well paint a target on his back and give people handguns!”

“Language,” Coulson said, prodding Tony in the hand with his toe.

Tony scowled at him, pushing his foot away.

“ _You’re_ the one calling attention to us,” Clint said, throwing the pillow onto the couch behind him. “If you had just agreed to switch places with me, we wouldn’t be in this mess,”

“Who the hell said I _didn’t_ agree to switch places with you?” Tony roared.

“Well I didn’t see you getting up off your _fat ass_ and going over to _my_ house last night – I could have been walking around looking like you today, but no, you had a hissy fit!” Clint snorted.

“I did _not_! When did I say no?” Tony sat up so fast his knee clipped the edge of the coffee table; it hurt so much, he barely managed to bite off the mouthful of swear words that came bubbling up. “I never said that – you’re hearing things, Barton,” he hissed through clenched teeth, rubbing his knee. “Maybe we need to get your hearing checked, because you’re losing what’s left of it if you think I said anything like that.”

“Alright. I’ve had enough,” Coulson snapped. “Tony _didn’t_ say anything about not wanting to trade places.” He threw his book down on the couch, bending some of the pages by accident. “ _I’m_ the one who decided you weren’t going to be walking around looking like Tony, remember?”

Clint looked away, his eyes narrowed, his lips pursed. “Well, I’m done here,” he muttered, struggling upright.

“ _Clint_ ,”

“No – no. You’re _right_. I’m blowing things out of _proportion_. I should be getting back to my place,” Clint sniffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Look, you two do what you want – you’re the team leaders after all. I’ve had enough of this,”

“Natasha’s going to be here in a few minutes,” Coulson said with a huff. “You need to be here for the meeting.”

“No,” Clint said, jamming his feet into his shoes. “I don’t. I really don’t. You guys make your plans – fill me in later, or don’t. Whatever. I don’t care.” He threw open the door and nearly walked face-first into Natasha. She grabbed him by the nose and walked him backwards into the house, calmly shutting the door behind her as he whimpered in agony.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing sharply to the couch.

Clint nearly ended up in Coulson’s lap in his haste to plunk himself down on the couch; he rubbed his nose, wincing. “What the fuck was that for?”

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest. She was dressed in a green and brown tweed pantsuit that looked like it had crawled out of adult Steve’s closet; while it was a little on the tacky side, she made it work. The glare on her face, however, made it clear she wasn’t here to play games. It was a miracle Steve hadn’t burst into tears when he had laid eyes on her. “I’ve had enough of your whining,” she said, looking around the room.

Tony averted his gaze. He had expected a chewing out, but he hadn’t though _she_ was going to do it in front of everyone. Fantastic. A great end to an even greater day.

“That means _all_ of you,” Natasha growled. “Sit up, Stark, before I drag you up off the floor myself,”

Tony sat up, muttering under his breath.

“I’m sick and tired of hearing this shit over the comms. If you have personal problems, deal with it on your own time – we are here on a mission. This is not a vacation – this is not a break, and this is not a game. If you can’t understand that, then I suggest you pack up and go home before you get someone killed,” Natasha said. She drummed her fingers on her arm, looking at each of them until everyone was equally unable to meet her gaze. “Frankly, I think the Captain would be ashamed to be seen working with us. There is a reason why we are not supposed to have chatter over the comms. It’s one thing to fool around when you’re getting along, but you are clearly _not_ getting along. Let me remind you that you’re on the security cameras – you think it’s all fun and games, but that footage is going back to the tower and while Pepper and the rest of the team are the only ones watching right _now_ , they’re not the only ones able to press play. Let me _remind_ you, that this is a professional operation – not a two-bit bait-and-switch.”

“We understand that,” Coulson said, clearing his throat. “And I’m sorry we’ve been causing problems.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Natasha snapped. She turned to Clint, hiking her thumb over her shoulder. “You’re not allowed to be here unless you can keep your hands and thoughts to yourself. This is a mission, not a brothel.”

“ _Tasha_ ,” Clint murmured, his cheeks turning red, “Come on! Be reasonable,”

“I _am_ being reasonable. You are out of control, and I’ve had enough. If Phil can’t get you to behave, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to step in and do it for him. Out.” She gestured to the door. “You’re banned from this house until further notice.”

Clint stood up slowly, the tips of his ears turning an ugly shade of crimson. He opened his mouth to argue and then shut his mouth, his teeth clicking audibly as he made eye contact with Natasha; what he saw there must not have been something pleasant. He looked down at his feet and then headed to the door, slouching as he went. “Sorry,” he said. He opened the door, giving Coulson a mournful look over his shoulder and then disappeared, letting the door close behind him with a soft click.

Coulson rested his face in his hands. “I’m sorry you had to step in,” he said. His shoulders slumped. “It won’t happen again,”

“It better not,” Natasha said. She stalked forwards and prodded Tony in the stomach. He groaned and tried to roll away from her. “And Stark? I get that you’re trying to be nice and all, but this isn’t about being a good friend. This is about Steve, and if what’s happening here is going to cause a problem, then you need to step up and point it out,”

“I _did_ ,” Tony grumbled, rubbing his stomach. “Why the hell do you think I was yelling?”

Natasha sighed. She sat down on the couch, taking Clint’s vacated spot beside Coulson. “He’s had his day here. That’s all he’s getting,”

Coulson picked up his book and closed it book, mindful of the bent pages. “Agreed.”

“Frankly, he’s lucky he had that day,” Natasha grumbled. “He wasn’t supposed to be here at all.”

“I know,” Coulson said, quietly.

“I don’t blame you,” Natasha said, leaning back against the couch. She put a hand on the back of Coulson’s neck. “You tried – you always try, but sometimes trying isn’t good enough when it comes to Clint,”

Coulson sank deeper into the couch, hanging his head.

“He should never have come here – I get that he wanted to see family after what happened, but he knew the risks and he ignored them. There is a reason why we agreed to have only two people with Steve at a time. Clint was supposed to relieve me on surveillance when he was ready, and that’s what he’s going to do now. He’s been too busy fuming to get his job done,” Natasha said. “He’s a professional, and he needs to start remembering that.”

“So what do we do now?” Tony asked, fiddling with the Thunderbird’s plastic wheels. It was bad enough being yelled at, but somehow he was getting second-hand guilt all because Clint had been sent away. Steve seemed to feel the same way, because he was inching closer and closer to Tony, his cars forgotten under the coffee table. The kid looked up at Tony with wide, almost frightened eyes. Suddenly the guilt wasn’t so second-hand anymore. He sighed. He shouldn’t have been yelling at Clint, even if it had felt good; they had probably scared the shit out of the kid the way they had been carrying on. Natasha was right. Adult Steve would have been ashamed of their behavior.

“All we can do now is wait,” Natasha said, rubbing her thumb against Coulson’s cheek. Her gaze softened until it was almost peaceable. “We wait, and we watch. There’s nothing else to do until Hydra or the Winter Soldier show up. Tonight, I’m go back to my place, and tomorrow we’re going to talk again when everyone is calm and rational,”

“Right,” Tony muttered. He doubted that one night was going to cool Clint off, but it was a start at least. He ruffled Steve’s hair when the kid sat down next to him, hoping to chase away the terror in Steve’s eyes. “How about we get you to bed, squirt?”

Steve looked sheepishly towards the door.

Ah. Tony chuckled softly. “You want to go run around on the beach again, don’t you?”

Steve nodded.

“Alright, alright,” Tony said, forcing himself upright. “What do you say? Want to head outside for a bit of fresh air?”

“You two can take him out,” Natasha said with a smile. She stood up and tugged Coulson to his feet. “I’m going to head on home again. I’ll come visit tomorrow morning,”

“Sounds like a plan,” Coulson murmured. He gave Natasha a weak smile. “Getting some air would be nice right about now,”

 

 

Steve must have been excited, because he beat Tony to the front door and waited patiently beside him as he tugged on his shoes. The patience only lasted a few minutes, because once everyone had their shoes on, he was out the door like a bat out of hell, running down the sand towards the water. Tony charged off after him, giving the place a once-over to make sure no one was lurking in the shadows. He spotted John Tanner lying on the sand in his usual spot with a bottle of whiskey within arm’s reach and relaxed, jogging up to Steve as Natasha disappeared from sight.

“Remember what we said about running?” Tony gasped, pretending to be exhausted from the short sprint. He dropped to his knees, landing in the sand with an audible oomph. His stomach wasn’t all that pleased with the sudden exercise, but it stayed calm enough to keep him from puking his dinner up all over the sand.

Steve grinned bashfully, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Sorry. I just wanted to go for a run,”

“Uh, huh,” Tony said, dusting his shirt off. Maybe kneeling hadn’t been the best idea. He made to stand up and noticed something shiny out of the corner of his eye. He turned, frowning past Coulson, noting shaggy brown hair before the agent dropped to the sand like a bag of rocks. At first he didn’t quite realize what was happening. Then Coulson started convulsing where he lay the sand, his body going tense and he knew what had happened. Tony stared up at John Tanner, all too aware that water was leeching into the sand around Coulson’s unconscious body. He had a Taser – the fucker had a _Taser_ –

“Hello, Mr. Stark,” John said, cracking a smile as he crushed the Taser with his bandaged hand. He turned and looked at Steve, a thick hunting knife clutched in other hand. “And hello to you too, Steve Rogers.”

“And you would be?” Tony gritted out, his eyes still on the knife in front of him. It couldn’t be – this couldn’t be him –

“I would be the Winter Soldier,” John said, his face turning impassive. “And you would be dead,”    


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Soldier's file didn't do him justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings here for PTSD flashbacks, torture, violence, blood and drowning. Heads up for things being very angsty too. Don't worry - there's going to be a lot of hurt/comfort/fluff to come, so stay tuned! Let me know if anything is funky : )

Tony nearly avoided the first blow; he could feel the way the blade skimmed across his ribs, slicing through fabric as though it was made out of tissue paper and knew at once that he had been lucky. This was bad – very, _very_ bad. He dropped to the sand and rolled on his side, hitting the sand by the edge of the water with a dull thud. He scrambled up as the Winter Soldier came charging after him, his fingers covered in a thin skin of sand, and darted along the beach. He had been kidnapped and smacked around enough times in his life to know that he was up shit creek without a paddle; he was used to the sudden spike of adrenaline at the sight of danger, but this felt different.

It was the look on the Winter Soldier’s face – that was what _really_ made it terrifying. The guy was _robotic_ , like this was something he did every evening after dinner – a mandatory task he felt compelled to do. He could have been out walking his dog, or feeding pigeons; he didn’t look like he was in much of a hurry, and it would have been impossible to tell what he was thinking or doing, unless of course, you caught a glimpse of his very, _very_ , sharp knife. Or looked at his eyes; Tony had seen eyes like those on a dead fish before. They were emotionless and empty – creepy looking at best. There was nothing of the drunkard left behind here; the guy still smelled like a mixture of body odor and whiskey, but he was quite obviously sober. The drinking had probably been a ruse to get him to let his guard down. Fuck!

Tony heard Steve scream and instinctively turned to get closer him, lurching in the sand. Coulson was still lying, unmoving, a few yards away; Tony couldn’t tell if he was down for good, but it was pretty damn clear that Coulson wasn’t going to be getting up any time soon. At least the fucker wasn’t using that Taser anymore.

There was no one left standing between the Winter Soldier and Steve Rogers except for him; Tony couldn’t think of anything more terrifying. He prepared himself for battle, limbering up. He wasn’t going to let that _fucker_ touch even a piece of lint on Steve’s shoulder. He shifted, seeing the Winter Soldier’s blade flash in the low light, and side stepped another blow, ducking under it to twist and punch the Winter Soldier in the face. The assassin staggered, but didn’t drop his knife.

Tony turned back to Steve. The kid was frozen in place near the water, his hands held rigidly at his sides, his face as white as a glass of milk.

Shit.

Why wasn’t he moving?

He was supposed to be sticking to the plan!

Maybe he just needed a reminder.

“Plan A!” Tony yelled, hoping Steve knew what the fuck he was talking about. He and Coulson had drilled Steve on the emergency plans at least once a day, but with kids it was hard to tell what they would do when the proverbial bullets were flying; Steve had nodded along in all the right places, and he had seemed eager enough when they had talked but now Tony wasn’t so sure the kid had understood what all the fuss had been about. He hoped that Steve’s eagerness to please would be enough to get them through the night.

Tony turned back to face the Winter Soldier, praying that Steve would run for the house like they had planned. It had been a mistake to look away, even for only a few seconds, and he paid for it. He managed to dodge another strike, but the one that came after struck him in his right shoulder; the knife tore through his shirt and sliced into his flesh, there and gone before Tony could even process what had happened.

The Winter Soldier smiled thinly. “You know, I thought they were messing with me when they said you’d be one of the people on the team guarding the brat,” he said, nodding towards Steve.

The kid cringed at the attention, taking an awkward step backwards towards the water.

“Yeah, well – I’m stronger than I look,” Tony grunted, pressing his hand to the wound on his shoulder. He couldn’t tell how badly he was injured, but he knew that it would be dangerous to keep running around with blood running down his arm.

“You’re really _not_ ,” the Winter Soldier chuckled.

“Steve – _Plan A, kid_ ,” Tony muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “ _Plan A!_ ”

Steve took another step backwards, his eyes locked on the Winter Soldier’s. His lower lip trembled. “ _Bucky_? What are you doing?”

The Winter Soldier sighed, giving his head a great shake, his greasy locks slapping against his cheeks. “For the last time – I’m not _Bucky_. I don’t know who the hell this Bucky guy is, but it’s not _me_ ,”

“Steve – _move_ – come on, kid,” Tony hissed, pushing himself into the Winter Soldier’s space. He knew he was going to regret it, but he needed the assassin focused on him – not Steve. “So, what – they picked you because you’re the best at murdering little kids?” he said, hoping he could taunt his way out of trouble.

The Winter Soldier didn’t even frown at him. He didn’t seem to care. He continued to smile, twirling his knife in his hand. “They hired me because I’m good at killing _everything_ , Mr. Stark. I get that you’re not a soldier, but even you should know that much. Didn’t they give you my file? SHIELD can’t be _that_ inept.”

Tony shrugged, realizing belatedly that the move was going to tug at his injured shoulder. “You came up in conversation, yeah,”

The Winter Soldier sighed. “Look – let’s do this the easy way, alright? Hand the kid over, and we’ll get this over with – no fuss, no muss,”

“Fuck you,” Tony growled.

“No thanks,” The Winter Soldier snorted. “I know where _you’ve_ been.”

“I highly doubt that,”

“You really want to do this, Stark?” The Winter Soldier smiled harder, his eyes still vacant of emotion.

“I really do,” Tony gritted out. He slammed his fist into the Winter Soldier’s bandaged arm as hard as he could, wanting to take advantage of the instant pain the blow would cause; hopefully there was enough of an injury underneath the bandages to make the hit worthwhile. They were a lovely shade of blood-shit-brown in spots, so they had to have been hiding _something_ big damage-wise.

Tony’s first connected easily. He grinned for a split second before realizing the _horrible_ mistake he had made. When he had thought about causing pain, he hadn’t expected that the pain would be _his_.

Tony’s hand and arm went numb; sensation returned slowly, bringing with it a stinging, _throbbing,_ twinge of pain that made his vision blur. His eyes watered; he barely managed to muffle his scream.

The Winter Soldier started laughing; it was an ugly sound, one that seemed to echo across the sand and water. He rubbed his bandaged arm, mock wincing in sympathy, pulling at the bandages until they tore free in a shower of filthy strands. Underneath, The Winter Soldier’s arm wasn’t even remotely made of flesh. It had been modeled and built to spec like it was a real arm, but it was mechanical, made from some sort of silver alloy. There was a red star on the shoulder acting as a tattoo of sorts. It wasn’t surprising that the Winter Soldier had been hiding it under bandages; there was no way in hell the thing would have done anything other than draw attention. Tony would have appreciated the technology more he had been able to think straight.

“You should see the look on your face,” The Winter Soldier said, letting the last of the bandages drop to the sand. “Want to take another swing, _big man_?”

Tony grimaced, resisting the urge to rub life back into his crippled arm. “I think I’m good,”

“You know, out of all the _morons_ you brought with you to guard the brat, I was pretty sure you would have been the one to figure out about my arm. I guess I was wrong,” The Winter Soldier chuckled.

“You’re a murderer. Who cares what you think?” Tony snapped. He looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of Natasha and Clint coming to his rescue, but the beach was empty – no one else was coming. Dread crept cold and sharp up Tony’s spine; he hadn’t felt like this in years – not since Afghanistan.

Shit.

Was this it?

Was he really the only one left?

How the fuck had this happened? They had been so careful!

He stepped in front of Steve, shielding him from sight. “Steve – honey, you need to run _now_ ,” he said, not caring if the Winter Soldier heard. He needed Steve gone, or else this was going to be so much worse. He could take anything the bastard threw at him as long as Steve made it out alright. He knew he could take it.

Steve looked from Tony to the Winter Soldier, his eyes still wide and frightened as he shuffled in place, unsure of what to do. “Ok,” he whispered. He moved before Tony could yell at him again and darted across the sand, zipping past the Winter Soldier.

The assassin clutched his knife tighter and lunged at the kid. Tony staggered to the left, throwing himself in the way.

Everything hurt.

Tony was happy that the kid hadn’t even turn around at the sound of his cry of pain; the hit was heavier than before, but thankfully there was no knife blade digging into his flesh this time. This he could take. This was easy; it hurt, but it was easy. He shoved the Winter Soldier back, leaving a bloody handprint on the man’s silver arm. “Fuck you!”

The Winter Soldier snarled; the desolation in his eyes was gone, replace with a glint of unbridled rage. “You piece of _shit_ ,”

“Oh yeah?” Tony sneered, silently cheering at the sound of a door slamming shut behind him, “What are you going to do about it?” He couldn’t hear the lock’s click, but he knew it had happened. Good job Steve, he thought to himself, trying to ignore the dizziness creeping closer. Good job, kid.

“I don’t know what _you’re_ so happy about,” the Winter Soldier growled, glaring over Tony’s shoulder. “Your little _friends_ are busy taking dirt naps. You’re not going to be able to wait this out, Stark,”

Tony blinked through another wave of pain. “You don’t know _shit_ about me, _pal_ ,”

The Winter Soldier shook his head, glancing towards the beach house, his look turning thoughtful. “Well, at least this way he’s all wrapped up,”

Tony frowned. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The Winter Soldier nodded towards the beach house. “Where the hell do you think he’s going to go? He’s locked up in there, isn’t he?”

Tony winced.

The Winter Soldier smirked. “He’s trapped in there – and you’re the idiots who locked him in. Sure, he’s got some doors between me and him – _for now_ – but once you’re smeared across the sand, it’s not going to matter. I’ll tear every last door down. He’s screwed, and it’s your fault, Stark,”

“You’re pathetic,” Tony grunted.

The Winter Soldier moved so fast Tony almost didn’t see him; Tony had known the guy was fast, but he hadn’t thought he was _this_ fast. He grabbed Tony by the shirt and shoved him towards the water. He watched as Tony stumbled like he was a baby deer taking its first steps. “It’s cute,” The Winter Soldier said, softly, “You think you’re going to live through this.”

Tony regained his balance and took a step backwards, trying not to slip in the wet sand. He tensed when water sloshed up over his toes as the waves crept up the shore. Fuck off, water, he wanted to scream. Fuck off. You’re not going to stop me this time. This wasn’t over – not by a long shot.

“If you think I left that kid unprotected in there, you’ve got another thing coming,” Tony said, aware that he was shaking.

“Really?” The Winter Soldier tossed his knife from hand to hand, graceful in his movements; Tony couldn’t help but watch him. “What makes you think that?”

“He’ll be fine,” Tony said, tearing his gaze away from the knife. He forced himself not to stare at the beach house, focusing on the Winter Soldier instead. “You’re not going to hurt him,”

“I like that you think that,” The Winter Soldier chuckled, stepping forward. He tossed his knife from hand to hand, his eyes locked on Tony’s.

Tony took a step backwards; the water was frigid as it seeped through his shoes. He tried to slink towards the beach but it was no use. The Winter Soldier slashed at him, the move angled just enough to keep Tony from gaining ground. He was trapped.

“Who hired you?” Tony asked, trying to calm himself while he looked for another way back to the sand. He knew he was screwed if he didn’t move; the tide was coming in, and the strength he had was waning. He ran the numbers and wished they were wrong.

Shit.

It was already too late.

He was too close to the Winter Soldier to dart out of the way now and too far into the water to get out of _its_ touch. Every wave felt like an icy hand wrapping around his ankles; he shuddered. He could taste bile in the back of his throat. The scent of burning metal was in the air; he had thought he had chased it away years ago, but here it was, back in full force. Realistically, he knew it wasn’t _really_ there – it couldn’t be, it had to be a hallucination – but the smell was strong enough to make him doubt himself. Fire couldn’t just grow out of sand, he chanted to himself. It can’t, it can’t, it can’t. There wasn’t a forge around here for miles. The truth didn’t make the taste or smell any less real. He could see the cave in the back of his mind, a dark shape taking form with each glance he took towards the shore – he could hear those bastards _laughing_ at him, telling him to hold his breath unless he wanted to drown like the sloppy little cunt he was – he shook his head hard, focusing on the Winter Soldier’s voice, using it to draw him back into reality. Those men were dead. He wasn’t and he wanted to stay that way.

The Winter Soldier cocked his head to the side, eyeing Tony, the knife hanging loosely in hand. “So it’s true then,” he said, lips curling in disgust. “You really _are_ fucked up, aren’t you, Stark?”

It took everything in Tony to not cringe. He puffed himself up, drawing in every last drop of bravado he had left and flashed a toothy smile at the assassin. “You’re the one who’s fucked up,”

The Winter Soldier moved unhurriedly, his knife held at the ready. “I’m not _just_ here for the brat, Stark,” he said, moving closer as Tony splashed his way backwards.

“Oh?” Tony shivered as his pants soaked clean through at the knees. Goosebumps broke out across his skin; he gagged at the water’s touch, staggering backwards as the Winter Soldier took another methodical step forward.

“What’s wrong, _sweetheart_?” The Winter Soldier asked, slashing at Tony – forcing him to take yet another hard step backwards into deeper water. “Don’t you like water?”

“Fuck you,” Tony seethed, shaking his head to clear away the black shapes leeching into his vision. His body felt like it was being pulled down; he clenched his fists, swaying where he stood, cursing under his breath. He never had been good at estimating blood loss. He took a blind step backwards and slid in the slick sand, landing sideways on one knee. Water splashed at his face; he could taste salt on his lips – he could feel it dripping down his ears and neck – _oh god they were here_ – _they were going to dunk him_ _again_ – _not_ _again_. He looked up, horrified, waiting for the hands he knew were coming and froze, staring up into the Winter Soldier’s eyes.

Wait – this wasn’t the cave.

This was the beach.

“You’re _pathetic_ , Stark,” The Winter Soldier murmured. He loomed over Tony like a giant torn from a fairy tale, too tall to be real. He shoved Tony hard in his injured shoulder and Tony went down, slumping backwards. For a minute Tony was underwater, fully submerged and then he was up and kicking at the surf, throwing himself at the Winter Soldier with everything he had. Somehow in the struggle, the knife went missing; he trusted that it was true when he couldn’t feel it tearing into his flesh over and over again. He wanted to cheer, but the water going up his nose and into his eyes made it hard to get out a sound.

The knife was gone, yet the Winter Soldier wasn’t any weaker. The assassin seized Tony by the throat with his metal arm, laughing at him as he thrashed around. He pushed Tony down onto his knees as if he was manhandling a toy. “What’s wrong? Is it the _water_?”

Tony coughed, spitting a mouthful of salt water into the Winter Soldier’s face.

“You just don’t know when to quit,” the Winter Soldier muttered.

Tony clawed at the Winter Soldier’s arms, tearing his nails on the man’s metal arm. It was too much; he couldn’t fight against the arm any more than he could against the man. He knew what was coming. He took in a deep breath, feeling his throat close off. He tried not to panic as the Winter Soldier flipped him onto his back, sending him under the water again.

The assassin laughed, straddling Tony’s chest, pinning him to the ground. “What’s wrong, Stark? Feeling a little tired?” There was no way to fight back – no way to kick at him.

The Winter Soldier was heavy on Tony’s chest, his knees bracketing Tony’s armpits, and he was solid – oh-so-solid.

The tide dropped as a new batch of waves broke loose behind them; Tony took in a gulp of air. He found himself gurgling when the Winter Soldier’s grip tightened, but he kept his precious air safely inside.

“Aldrich Killian’s people send their regards, by the way,” The Winter Soldier murmured, smiling down at Tony. His hair was hanging around his face in brown, wet tendrils, but Tony could still make out his dead eyes.

Tony gaped up at the assassin, his eyes bulging in their sockets. The water came back in, crashing down over his face, shooting up his nose and he struggled, thrashing uselessly against the Winter Soldier’s grasp. His lungs screamed in protest.

“They made a mistake leaving you in charge, Stark, you know that, don’t you?” The Winter Soldier said when the waves went out again, “It’s your fault. Everything that happens after this is on _you_. They’re going to rip that kid apart to get at the serum. It doesn’t matter what I do to him – it’ll be like a _tea party_ compared to what they’re going to do – and you condemned him to it,”

The waves went over Tony again; the arc reactor’s glow tore through the water, bent and blue and broken as it painted itself across the Winter Soldier’s pale face. Tony clutched at the assassin’s shirt, his fingers digging into wet fabric; he was too weak to do much more than hang on. He could see the men in the cave again; they were sneering down at him over the Winter Soldier’s shoulder, telling him to give up – telling him to give them what they wanted. He opened his mouth as the waves went away and gasped, his voice nothing more than a dull croak, breaking at long last, “I’ll do whatever you want, please,”

“You’re _already_ doing what I want,” The Winter Soldier said, patting Tony’s cheek with his flesh-and-blood hand.

Tony didn’t get the chance to take another breath in. The water crashed over his head again; it burbled, slipping into his ears and up his nose, sneaking inside of him as he struggled for breath.

He heard a dull _thud_ as the water finally, _blessedly_ , went away.

The Winter Soldier went sideways, toppling off of Tony into the drink, sagging against the soupy sand in a heap. Tony found himself grabbed at by small hands. He pushed himself up, gasping for air as his lungs screamed at him to breath – _breath you stupid bastard, you gave them what they wanted – oh god – oh god they were going to pull him under again and he couldn’t – he couldn’t do it again_.

“Tony!” Steve’s voice was loud, booming into Tony’s ear as though he were speaking through a megaphone. He grabbed Tony by the shoulders, tugging at him, trying to get him to stand but Tony couldn’t move. His body didn’t want to do anything; the cold was back, tearing at his flesh, numbing every last part of him, and he was fine with that. He stared forlornly at Steve, his fingers uselessly brushing against the kid’s cheek.

“I told you to stay inside,” Tony rasped, blinking through tears and salt water.

“You need to get up,” Steve said, tugging at Tony’s shirt. “Get up,”

“Ok,” Tony whispered. He tried to push himself up onto his knees, but his arms felt like they were encased in concrete. He tipped backwards into the water; he couldn’t work up the air to scream as he went under again.

The water went out.

He gasped, sucking in a new breath, dimly aware that Steve was trying to pull him out of the water.

No. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let that bastard get Steve.

He forced himself up, ignoring the way his muscles were threatening to kill him, and managed to crawl towards the shore, letting Steve guide him.

The Winter Soldier sat up, rubbing the side of his head. “You little _bastard_ ,”

Steve tensed, grabbing for something under the water. Tony couldn’t help but laugh when he caught sight of Coulson’s favourite frying pan clutched in the kid’s hands.

“Leave him alone!” Steve said, his voice shrill. He lifted the frying pan up, ready to take another swing at the Winter Soldier’s head. “Stop it Bucky! You’re not like this – something’s wrong with you,”

The Winter Soldier scowled. He pushed himself upright, his metal hand gouging marks in the sand and snatched the frying pan clean out of Steve’s hands. He spun it around as he leaned over Steve; blood trickled down the side of his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I can’t believe you managed to sneak up on me,” he growled.

Steve stepped backwards, putting himself in between Tony and the assassin. “Stop it! You’re a good person, Bucky. Don’t do this,”

“I’m not _Bucky_ ,” the Winter Soldier snarled, hurling the frying pan away across the beach. It landed in the sand beside the porch, lodging itself in a pile of broken shells and the remains of Steve’s sand castle equipment. “I’ve _never_ been called Bucky – I’m _not_ Bucky! Don’t you get _that_?”

Steve’s brow furrowed. He put his hands on his hips, standing his ground. “What’s wrong with you? You’re supposed to be my _friend_ ,”

“I’m not _Bucky_!”

“Steve,” Tony moaned, his voice barely above a whisper. “Run – get out of here,”

“I can’t just leave you,” Steve protested, shaking his head. “I can’t!”

The Winter Soldier grabbed Steve by the throat; it seemed like he moved in slow motion. His metal arm glinted in the low light as he lifted the kid up in the air. “You are a fucking pain in the ass,” he said, glaring at Steve as he struggled to break free. He turned, shaking his head at Tony. “Kids these days,” he said as he hurled the kid through the air, sending Steve headfirst into deep water. “I’ll deal with the brat later,” he muttered as Steve thrashed in the waves, trying to keep afloat.

Tony turned his body over, pushing himself upright and into the water. He hated the feel of it, but he couldn’t lose Steve – not like this. “He can’t swim,” he said, his voice breaking. “He can’t – he can’t _swim_ ,”

The Winter Soldier seized Tony by the hair. “Just where do you think you’re going, hm?” He looked over Tony’s shoulder and winced, rubbing at the side of his head. “ _Jesus_ – the little guy’s got a killer swing,” he muttered, blinking his eyes rapidly.

“Tony!” Steve shrieked. He struggled in the water, trying desperately to stay afloat. “Tony!” His head appeared above water and then he was gone, pulled under.

Tony twisted in the Winter Soldier’s grasp, pushing himself back into the water; he lost a handful of hair, but he barely felt it. The cave flared up around him again, filling his thoughts with the men and their loud voices, but he tuned them out, hearing only Steve’s terrified screams. He paddled weakly, pushing his body through the waves, barely keeping his head above water. “Steve! Hold on, Steve,”

“ _Steve_?” The Winter Soldier sounded aghast. “What the fuck are you – what’s going on?” he snarled. He pressed his hands to his head, dropping to his knees. “What the fuck did you do to my _head_?”

Tony pushed on. For a second, he couldn’t see Steve, couldn’t find him amidst the waves – but then he was there, small and shivering and safe. He pulled the kid against him, adrenaline thrumming in his veins. “I’ve got you,” he croaked, lifting Steve’s head above the water. He turned them around and held on tight to the kid as the waves threatened to suck them back in, stumbling on the rocks in the sandy ground below him. The waves dunked them both; he heaved them back up above water, panting for breath, his eyes locked on the beach. “I’ve got you,”

“ _Steve_?” The Winter Soldier stood up. His face drained of colour. “It can’t be. He’s – he’s not – that’s – it can’t be him,” he muttered, shaking his head. He squinted at them, and then staggered and threw himself into the water, gliding effortlessly towards them. “Oh god – it’s real. Oh god – _Steve_ ,”

No, Tony thought. No. Not now – he needed to keep the kid safe, and he couldn’t – it wasn’t _fair_ – why wasn’t he able to keep anyone safe? He closed his eyes and braced for impact, praying he could keep Steve afloat long enough for it to matter. The world seemed to be moving backwards; he felt the Winter Soldier’s fingers dig into the back of his shirt, and wheezed as he was hauled bodily through the water back to shore, limp and exhausted. He lost track of Steve in the tumble he took, focusing on the cold and pain spreading through his body; his shoulder hit a rock as he landed in the sand and he screamed hoarsely.

Steve started crying.

Tony tried to get up; he ordered himself to rise, but there was nothing left in him to give. He reached out for Steve, lying sprawled in the sand. The kid was being held almost tenderly in the Winter Soldier’s arms – but that couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be. The guy had just been drowning him –

The Winter Soldier jerked and fell over; he twitched and fell still.

Steve rolled free from the assassin’s grasp, scrambling to his feet in a flurry of sand.

Natasha walked closer, her purse hanging loosely from her hand. She narrowed her eyes as she peered down at the Winter Soldier, stooping to check for a pulse. “Are you alright?” she asked, turning to Steve once she was satisfied. The question was so quiet Tony almost couldn’t hear it.

“I’m ok,” Steve said, grabbing Tony by the shirt. “Tony?”

Tony closed his eyes and let the darkness claim him; Steve would be alright. He was safe now. They were safe.

 

 

 

 

The blankets felt like they were tied down to the bed; Tony wanted to scream for help, but when he tried, he found he couldn’t make a sound. He pried open his eyes, unable to do much more than that and looked around, trying to get his bearings. It was dark as usual – maybe night, maybe day. It was hard to tell in the cave. He took in a sharp breath through his nose, waiting for someone to kick the bed to get him up and stiffened when he realized that something was lying on him – or rather, _someone_. He let out a soft sigh when he recognized the blonde hair and the slender frame.

It was just Steve.

But that couldn’t be right, because Steve had never been in the cave with him. It had been Yinsen with him – Yinsen, who had pulled him from his rickety cot every morning before the guards came so that he wouldn’t wake up from his nightmares to even more terror. He looked around again marveling as the cave melted away; it wasn’t all that bad here really, despite the pain. The wallpaper was a little ugly, but it wasn’t awful. But then again, that was probably because this wasn’t a cave. He vaguely recognized the room, but he couldn’t place it, still too caught up in the weight of the blankets and the stabbing pain in his shoulder. Steve moved, snuggling closer in his sleep; he was pale and the skin around his eyes was puffy and reddened, but he looked alright.

He was safe.

Steve was safe.

Tony closed his eyes and drifted off to an easy sleep.

 

 

When Tony woke next, he found it easier to figure out where he was; he recognized his bedroom in the beach house, and while he still hated the decor, it didn’t look quite so horrible. The blankets didn’t feel like they were made of lead anymore either. They were _almost_ comfortable. He was propped up with practically every pillow in the house, and that didn’t feel like it was enough. His shoulder was still aching, but the pain was a little duller now, a little less sharp and itchy. Maybe he was medicated, he mused; wouldn’t that be nice? He couldn’t be sure, but at least this time his vision was clear and the room actually looked like a room.

Steve was lying next to him still, his head resting gently on Tony’s good shoulder. The kid scrambled upright when he noticed that Tony had woken up, his eyes wide and excited. “Tony?”

“Steve?” Tony’s voice squeaked. He coughed into his arm and scrubbed a hand over his face. Getting up would have been nice right about now, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to be doing that for a long time. He tried to smile at Steve, but his face didn’t seem to want to work properly.

Steve picked Tony’s hand up, holding it tightly between his. “Coulson says you’re going to be ok,”

Coulson? Tony coughed again.

His mouth tasted like salt.

He shuddered, remembering waves crashing over his head and closed his eyes. _No_. _They were here to get him to build for him. They wanted him to build the Jericho. Oh god. It had been a joke – a dream – and he had fallen for it again._

“Tony?”

“Don’t,” Tony rasped, shrinking into his pillows. “I’ll do what you want – I swear,”

“Tony?” Steve tugged at Tony’s hand. “Tony? What’s wrong?”

“I promise,” Tony pleaded, trying to pull his hand away from his captor. He was too weak – too tired and sore to put up much of a fight. The tears came easily, dragged out with his words. “I _promise_ – I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t do it again – please don’t do it again,”

He felt something wet hit his cheek and shuddered.

_Oh god._

_They were going to piss on him again, weren’t they?_

He held his breath, ready for the stream of urine and trembled as another droplet hit him just below his eye.

He held his breath until he couldn’t hold it anymore.

The hand holding his was gone, but he couldn’t remember when they had let him go.

Gasping, he opened his eyes, expecting to get a glimpse of the bastard’s shit-eating grin and saw that there was no one around – only Steve, his mind helpfully provided. It was just Steve. There was no one else here – no one from the cave. Only Steve. Those were dead men – _the men in the cave were dead_ –

Steve was crying; his sobs were unbearably loud. He put his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry,”

Tony reached up, gingerly taking Steve by the hand. “ _No, no, no._ You didn’t do anything. It’s ok,” he said. He wanted to sit up – to wrap his arms around the kid and never let go, but even the simple act of lifting his arm was draining. He tried to smile, but his face still wasn’t working properly. He settled for tugging Steve closer and tucked the kid against his chest, wrapping his arms around him as best he could. “It’s ok. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault – you didn’t do anything wrong,”

Steve continued to cry, unconvinced of his innocence.

Tony sighed, resting his chin on the top of Steve’s head. His eyes felt raw, but they still managed to muster up a few more tears for him. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Steve sobbed, his fingers tangling in Tony’s shirt. “Bucky hurt you, and it’s all my fault,”

Tony stiffened. The kid was blaming himself? For _this_? _Jesus_ – _Get it together, Stark_ , he roared to himself. Get it _together_. You’re supposed to be the adult. You’re not supposed to make him cry. You’re supposed to be strong – you’re supposed to be stronger than this! “Bucky hurting me was _not_ your fault,” he growled, wishing he could take the last few minutes back so he could burn them from Steve’s memories. The kid shouldn’t have had to see this. Oh god – this was his fault. _He should have just shut up and waited for them to kill him – and they weren’t even there!_ _Christ_ , what was wrong with him? He was screaming at shadows again! He had gotten over this – why the fuck hadn’t he gotten over this?

“No one _said_ it, but I know it was my fault,” Steve sniffled, pressing himself closer to Tony. He huddled under Tony’s arm, still crying, but he wasn’t sobbing as loud now. His tears dribbled down Tony’s throat, but this time there was no mistaking them for anything other than tears. “They’re mad at me,”

“They’re not mad at you,” Tony insisted, stroking Steve’s hair. “Why would they be mad at _you_? You saved me, remember?” It wasn’t just empty words; it was true. He could still hear the sound of that frying pan hitting the Winter Soldier in the head, and nothing would _ever_ make that sound less than wonderful. Tony used the last of his strength to hug Steve as tightly as possible. He sagged against the pillows; he wished he was stronger than this. “No more crying, alright, kiddo?” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of Steve’s head. “I’m the one that fucked up, not you,”

“You _didn’t_ ,” Steve mumbled, wiping his eyes on his arm. “You saved me – I _almost_ –“

The bedroom door slid open, the move almost silent. A man stepped inside. He was carrying a tray with a mug and a bowl of something Tony couldn’t quite see. He closed the door behind him, stepping closer, telegraphing his every move. Tony stiffened as he warily watched the stranger. He wished he had the ability to pull Steve behind him. He wanted to smack himself when he realized that it wasn’t one of the men from the cave. It was Coulson – not one of _them_. Shit. It hadn’t been this bad in years.

“Hey, Tony,” Coulson said softly, gesturing with the tray towards a metal TV tray beside the bed. “I wanted to bring you something to eat. It’s me – _Phil_. You recognize me, right?”

“Yes,” Tony muttered, giving his head a shake. “I know who you are.” Tony gritted his teeth. His stomach whined when he caught sight of the mug and bowl; he had to force himself to not glare down at it in case Steve misinterpreted the look. “I see you’re still alive,” he rasped, concentrating on Coulson’s face.

Coulson set the tray down, mindful of the TV tray’s weak legs; he looked a little shaky – like he should have been in bed too, but he seemed to have soldiered on. There were bruises on the side of his neck from where the Taser had gotten him, and his skin was an unhealthy shade of white. “If you hadn’t been there, I probably wouldn’t be standing here right about now,” Coulson said. “Thank you,”

Tony’s discomfort slipped away. He sank into the pile of pillows behind him again, eyeing Coulson over the top of Steve’s head, his muscles burning from the brief exertion. “You’re full of shit, but I like that. Fluff my ego more,” he said, trying to crack a smile again. It came out this time, but it wasn’t nearly as comfortable as usual. His cheeks felt like they were broken.

“He knocked Clint out and tied him up in his living room,” Coulson said, pushing the bowl towards Tony. It wasn’t filled with soup like Tony had expected. Instead, it was filled to the brim with banana flavored pudding – the artificial shit Tony always pretended he hated but secretly loved. It looked awful but at the same time, it smelled like a heaven. Tony’s mouth watered; he choked down a mouthful of saliva, too weak to reach out and take the bowl from the tray.

Coulson sighed. He looked down at the TV tray, lips pursed, and then lifted the bowl up, holding it out to Steve. “Do me a favor, kiddo,” he said, tactfully ignoring the way the Steve’s sniffles and the way his face was red and blotchy, “Help him eat this, ok? We need to get some food into him,”

“Ok,” Steve said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He took the spoon Coulson handed him and scooted backwards across the mattress, scooping up a spoonful of pudding. He held it out, his arm unsteady, and aimed for Tony’s mouth.

Tony almost choked on the first mouthful, it was so good. He swallowed the pudding down, trying to wipe at his chin with the back of his hand before he could drool all over himself. He wondered idly if this was what it felt like to be elderly.

When Coulson touched his face with a napkin, Tony shrank away, pulling himself into the pillows again, startled out of his thoughts. “ _Don’t_ ,”

Coulson smiled sadly. “Sorry,” he said, lowering his hand and the napkin. “I’ll give it to Steve, ok?”

Tony nodded sluggishly, licking the last of the pudding and spit from his dry lips. He stilled as Steve wiped his face, his eyes still locked on Coulson’s.

“I had a feeling this would happen,” Coulson said, pushing the mug of water closer to Steve.

“What?” Tony asked, only half listening. He eyed the mug, wondering if there was water in it.

“Never mind. We’ll talk about it later, alright?” Coulson said. He stood up, making sure to settle the TV tray before it could tip over. “I’ll come get the dishes later,”

“Everyone made it, right?” Tony asked, watching Coulson head to the door.

Coulson turned, pulling the door open. “They’re fine, Tony. You did a good job out there. You held him off long enough for Natasha to break free and take him out,”

“She hit him in the head with her purse,” Tony said, seeing the memory play out in the back of his mind. He shivered, remembering the taste of salt water in the back of his throat. No. He wasn’t going to go there. Not now. Not when Steve was around to see it. He turned his attention back to the pudding Steve was offering, letting the kid spoon the stuff into his mouth.

“Yeah,” Coulson said as he shut the door. “She sure did. We’ll talk about it more later, when you’re feeling better,”

Steve spooned up another helping of pudding. He smiled at Tony. Tony smiled back awkwardly, praying that he didn’t look crazy.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting better is a long process. Tony just wanted to get it over with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for vomit (you don't see anything, it's just talked about - not in detail), flashbacks of torture and depressing themes.

It was two days before Tony could even sit up in bed without someone helping him; he hated every minute of it. Being propped up like a newborn wasn’t even the worst part. He could have let it go if it had just been them propping him up and leaving him to his thoughts, but no. They wouldn’t leave him alone for more than a few minutes at a time. Clint was around every waking minute, hovering at Tony’s bedside like he was expecting Tony to spontaneously combust; Tony wasn’t surprised, really, but it still hurt that they didn’t seem to trust that he was completely capable of surviving without constant supervision. All he wanted to do was sleep without someone’s eyes on him all the time. The nightmares were bad enough and they were made all the worse by having to wake up in a room with someone looming over him in the darkness.

 

It was hard enough to stay _calm_ on a good day, let alone to keep sane with their constant hovering. He didn’t want anyone close – aside from Steve, of course – yet there they were.

They weren’t that great at being babysitters either. In those first few days, they all made mistakes, some of them more harmful than others. He was hoisted up off of his mattress more than a few times without seeing it coming; every time they did it, he ended up cringing and screaming until they put him down again. It was embarrassing as hell; he was living in a perpetual panic attack, and there was no peace – no way out. He hadn’t thought that it could get much worse, but it did.

Needing help for everything meant that trips to the bathroom were a nightmare. He was given a chaperone every time, and every step made him shake so badly, he almost couldn’t keep himself upright, even when he was sitting on the toilet.

He hated himself; he hated being afraid of _everything_.

He hated looking around and seeing faces that he couldn’t recognize at first sight. He knew that the people he saw were his friends – that it would get better, because _everyone_ here was his friend – of course they were – but sometimes it was hard to remember who they really were at first glance. He had to force himself to stop flinching and strategically retreating to the corner of his bed when they came into his room.

It was bad.

He hadn’t been able to bring himself to look out the window; the sounds coming in from outside grated on his frayed nerves.

He dreamed of drowning almost every night and spent every waking moment trying to get the taste of salt water out of the back of his throat.

He knew what was happening was bothering Steve. The kid hadn’t said anything, but Tony could tell it was making him nervous. Steve watched out for him; he sat in Tony’s bedroom, settled there on the edge of Tony’s bed with his crayons and his colouring book spread out in front of him. When Steve was there, things were better.

And then one day Steve started coughing.

 

 

“Are you ok?” Tony croaked. He was propped up amidst his pile of pillows, and had been drifting in and out of sleep; he was wide awake now. His body was sore all over from lying in bed all day. He couldn’t even distract himself with work, because he couldn’t hold his tablet properly. The hand he had smashed the Winter Soldier with was bruised, and his wrist was sprained badly; he was lucky that it wasn’t broken. Natasha had splinted it for him just to be on the safe side, and it felt stiff and heavy when he tried to move it. He hated not being able to move his body now more than ever. He wanted to grab Steve and hold the kid close.

“It’s just a tickle,” Steve said, not looking up from his colouring book.

“Just a tickle, huh?” Tony let his eyelids droop again. The pain meds Natasha had him on were the good ones, and thankfully they were starting to kick in again. “Maybe you should get someone to bring you a glass of water or something,”

“It’s ok,” Steve said, shrugging his shoulders. “My throat was scratchy all day yesterday too,”

“All the more reason to get some water,” Tony yawned. He nudged Steve with his foot and smiled softly when the kid poked him back.

“Are you ok?” Steve asked. His voice was a little quieter than usual, like he was afraid someone might overhear their conversation and punish him for it.

Tony sighed. “No, honey,” he said, not wanting to lie to the kid. “I’m not ok. But I will be,”

“Do you want me to close the curtains?”

Tony opened one eye. He caught sight of the blue sky even though Clint and Coulson had already moved his bed to face away from the window and winced. His chest tightened up; he let out a long, hissed breath and closed his eyes tightly, counting in his head until the blue went away. He loathed not being able to look at the goddamned _sky_ without thinking about what had happened that night on the beach. It was the same colour as the sky he had seen after his convoy had been attacked in Afghanistan too; maybe that was part of the problem. He had seen it every night for months in his dreams; he knew it too well to push it away. This was bad, he thought miserably, trying to relax as Steve closed the curtains. He was going to get in the way if he couldn’t get handle on things soon. If he couldn’t even look at the sky, how was he going to be useful again?

Steve settled back down on Tony’s bed. He coughed again, his head hanging down as though he was looking at his books; his body shook violently with each new cough. “I don’t feel so good,” he managed to wheeze out. He tipped forwards, seemingly in slow motion, crashing into his colouring books. His face was pasty white – far lighter than it had been the night before, and there was a bright stain of pink on his cheeks. Tony moved as fast as he could, gathering Steve up before he could roll off the side of the bed.

“Steve?” Tony cradled the kid against his chest, horrified by Steve’s sudden stillness. They had just been talking – Steve had been fine. What was going on? He brushed Steve’s hair back from his forehead. Panic bubbled up, pushing away all logic.

_They had been good today – they had been behaving themselves. This shouldn’t have happened – they shouldn’t have been punished. It wasn’t fair – it wasn’t fair – it wasn’t fair._

“Steve!” He screamed Steve’s name again and again, trying to attract the guards. He screamed even though his throat was raw from shouting himself hoarse in his sleep; he ignored the pain and kept going. He couldn’t breathe – he couldn’t lose Steve. They _had_ to save Steve – they had to!

A woman came bursting through the door. She flew towards the bed with a knife drawn, ready to attack; she looked around the room, her keen eyes darting from wall to wall. When she was satisfied that there was no one threatening around, she turned her attention to Steve, lying limp in Tony’s arms. She rested the back of her hand on Steve’s forehead and then let out a relieved sigh, her shoulders slumping. “It’s ok,” she murmured, moving her hand cautiously onto Tony’s shoulder. “It’s me, Natasha – remember? Steve caught a bit of a cold a few days ago – he’s ok, Tony,”

“And you know this, how, exactly?” Tony growled, unable able to resist the urge to pull Steve closer to his chest.

“He started talking about having a scratchy throat after you fought the Winter Soldier,” she said, keeping her voice smooth and calm. “I called Bruce and checked in with him to make sure it wasn’t anything dangerous. It’s _ok_ , Tony,”

“It’s _not_ ok!” Tony hissed, anxiously stroking Steve’s hair. He knew the kid probably couldn’t even feel it, but he couldn’t stop himself. “ _Why didn’t anyone tell me?_ ”

“We didn’t tell you because we knew it was going to make you – _uncomfortable_ ,” Natasha said, picking her words carefully. She straightened up and snatched a blanket up off the corner of the bed, draping it over Steve’s lower body. “He’ll be alright. He probably passed out because he hasn’t been sleeping all that well.”

“You keep saying he’s alright, but where’s your proof? I’ve never been around a sick kid before – what the fuck are we supposed to do?”

“Tony,” Natasha said, squeezing his shoulder. “It’s just a cold,”

“Is it viral? Bacterial? Is it because of the serum? Is it something I did?” Tony fidgeted, shifting Steve until the kid was resting comfortably on the mattress instead of lying like a lump in his lap. He brushed back Steve’s hair and felt his forehead like Natasha had, frowning down at the unconscious child. “This is bad. This _has_ to be bad,” he muttered. At least it wasn’t a punishment though – that much was clear now.

“It’s likely just a cold brought on by stress,” Natasha said, smiling fondly down at Steve. “Little kids get sick. It’s a fact of life, and yes, it’s scary as hell, but we’ll deal with it together and we’ll be fine. I’m going to go get the thermometer and we’ll see what his temperature is, ok?” She stood up, patiently disentangling herself from the blankets. She hesitated and then reached out and ran her fingers through Tony’s hair, smoothing down his bedhead. The touch was a lot more comforting than he had expected; he leaned into it, closing his eyes.

“You’re going to be fine too, you know that, right?” she said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony muttered, refusing to look away from Steve. “Hurry up and get the thermometer, will you?”

Natasha flicked him in the ear. “I’ll be right back.” She slipped from the room, closing the door behind her so quietly, it was hard to tell she had done anything at all. She had been doing that a lot the past few days; everyone had, now that he thought about it. He was grateful for it; he couldn’t stand the sound of locks clicking at the moment. But at the same time he wondered if there was a reason why they were being so quiet. He waited irritably for her to come back, wondering if he could get away with grilling her for information once Steve was taken care of. He didn’t like not knowing what was going on.

 

It seemed like she was gone forever and then bam – there she was, opening up the door. He was pretty sure he hadn’t even seen her turn the door handle this time; he should have been impressed, but instead it made him wary. If she could creep into his room, _anyone_ could. He shivered, pulling his blankets up over his back. He wanted to go home. He was tired of being here – tired of waking up with the goddamned blue sky out there beyond the window. He wanted it gone. He wanted to be back in his workshop where it was safe. He could keep Steve safe there too. No one could get into his workshop.

Natasha kindly pretended not to notice the way Tony had huddled himself under his blankets. She shook the thermometer as she sat down beside Steve on the edge of the mattress, idly thumbing at her phone.

“What are you doing?” Tony asked, wishing his voice didn’t sound like he had been eating gravel. He cleared his throat to try and fix the sound; the squeak that came out was so loud he was pretty sure people in _town_ had heard him. He clamped down on his terror by digging his fingers into the sheets beneath him when Steve didn’t even stir. “What are you doing?” he asked again through gritted teeth. “What’s going on?”

“I’m texting Bruce,” Natasha murmured. She looked down at the phone, double checking something and then lifted Steve up a little in order to get the thermometer under the kid’s tongue. She prodded her phone again when it chimed. “Bruce says if his temperature is too high we can either give him a cold bath or put some cold washcloths on his forehead.”

Tony fidgeted while the thermometer did its work. “ _Alright_ ,”

Natasha pulled the thermometer free from Steve’s mouth. She stared at it for a few seconds, frowning, and then looked back to her phone when it chimed again.

“What?” Tony asked, swallowing hard. It had to be bad. It had to be.

“His temperature is a little high, but it’s not dangerous. Bruce is recommending we use the wet washcloth method. He says that if that doesn’t bring Steve’s temperature down enough, we should fill up the bathtub and soak him in cold water,”

“So we’re using washcloths,” Tony said, clearing his throat nervously. He looked away as Natasha rose and left the room again. He wanted to help, but he wasn’t so sure he could handle being near the bathtub; he had been near it every time he had gone to the bathroom, of course, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to _look_ at except by accident.

Natasha returned with a wet washcloth. She grumbled when Mabel snuck into the room, squeezing in between her legs but didn’t chase the cat out; she shut the door behind her and sat down on the bed, trying not to get the washcloth covered in cat hair when Mabel launched herself up onto the bed under her arm. She draped the washcloth over Steve’s forehead, carefully smoothing it down. “Go bother someone else,” she said, pushing the cat away as Mabel tried to go face first into Steve’s forehead.

Mabel growled at her and made another half-hearted attempt to lick the dribbles of water sliding down Steve’s face. She gave up when Natasha pushed her face away again, and sat down beside Steve’s shoulder, staring grumpily up at Natasha as though that would help the situation somehow.

“And now we wait,” Natasha said, locking eyes with the cat. “And _you_ stay away from his face, you little beggar,”

Mabel meowed and turned around, showing Natasha her furry behind.

Natasha snorted. “Figures,”

Tony calmed as Mabel crawled into his lap; she circled five times before deciding to settle down with her head resting on his knee. She started purring when he touched her. “You guys have been feeding her, right?” he asked, running his fingers through the cat’s tangled fur.

Natasha scowled. “Yes. Steve and Coulson have made it impossible to forget about it,”

Tony grinned. “That’s good,”

“The way she eats, we’re going to need to take a trip into town to get groceries,” Natasha said, with a hum. She looked up from Steve, setting her gaze on Tony instead. “I’m going to borrow the hologram you use,”

Tony tensed. “Yeah, sure – it’s fine,” he lied. He didn’t like that she was leaving, but if that was what needed to happen, then there was nothing he could do about it. Coulson and Clint would still be here, he reminded himself feverishly, so they wouldn’t be undefended this time; at least, he hoped not. A part of him didn’t really trust that they would be able to keep the peace without Natasha watching over their shoulders. He knew she would be able to get things done quickly in town, so if someone attacked – _oh, hell_ , it hadn’t even happened yet, and here he was panicking already.

“It’s not fine,” Natasha said, her eyes still locked on Tony’s. “But I promise, you, everyone will be safe. Clint’s going to be right here – and so is Coulson. We’ll lock the door and windows and Jarvis will be monitoring the cameras the entire time I’m gone. The only reason the Winter Soldier got at us before was because we were distracted. We were fighting amongst ourselves – we won’t make the same mistakes this time.”

“Great,” Tony grumbled, unconvinced despite the conviction he heard in her voice. He rested the back of his hand against Steve’s cheek, trying to will the kid’s fever away.

Steve stirred under Tony’s touch, and rolling towards him; the kid’s cheek was still warmer than it should have been, but it hadn’t gotten any worse.

Still, Tony remained cautious, unwilling to accept things as safe.

Could they really fix this?

Could he fix himself?

It was hard to think about the future; just plain _thinking_ was hard enough. His mind seemed like it was slowing down; his body followed suit. It felt like he hadn’t slept in _weeks_. He rubbed his eyes, and wondered if Steve wasn’t the only one who had gotten sick.

“Do you think you’ll be alright if I leave now?” Natasha asked, pushing Mabel’s head gently away from Steve’s washcloth again. She scowled at the cat; Mabel narrowed her eyes and hissed at her.

“I don’t know,” Tony said, feeling lost. He scrubbed a hand over his face, grimacing at the coarseness of his beard; it was overgrown now, but he didn’t trust himself to use a razor to fix the mess. He wouldn’t have minded a shower or three too, but the thought of being immersed in water – hot or otherwise – made his skin crawl and his stomach roil. “I guess if you have to go now, do it sooner rather than later.”

“Is there anything else I should pick up, aside from the usual groceries?”

“Get some ginger ale and crackers,” Tony mumbled. “The kid’s probably going to puke his guts up,”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Natasha said, softly. “I’ll get some over the counter cold medicine too. Do you think we should stock up on cough syrup?”

“That’s probably a good idea,”

“Alright,” Natasha said. She stood up and then flipped Steve’s washcloth over, smoothing it down again. “Do you want some help getting to the bathroom before I go?”

Tony scowled down at his lap. He wished he didn’t have to say yes.

Natasha smiled, all knowingly. “Come on,” she said, stepping alongside the bed. She helped Tony get his feet down onto the floor and then shooed the cat off of Tony’s leg so he could get up without losing half of his thigh to her sharp claws. She folded his blanket up as he stood up and set it down on his pillow, waiting patiently for him to take his mandatory four unaided steps; once he had given up the attempt at walking, she stepped closer so that she could swoop in and save him from crashing face-first into the floor. “Men,” she grumbled, pulling his arm over her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony muttered, letting himself be steered towards the door. He staggered, leaning heavily against her as she pulled it open, and averted his gaze from the living room window so that he didn’t have to see the outside world. “Let’s just make it fast, huh?”

“ _Clint_ ,” Natasha called out, half-dragging Tony into the bathroom. “Go watch Steve,”

“Yes ma’am,” Clint said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. He put a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder, straightening out the neckline of Tony’s shirt. “He’ll be alright. Go do your business,”

“That’s delightful,” Tony grunted, not looking Clint in the eye. “Can’t I just go to the bathroom in peace?”

“Nope,” Clint said, heading towards Tony’s room. “Have fun you two. Try not to make a mess,”

“ _Asshole_ ,” Tony muttered.

Natasha closed the bathroom door behind them. She helped Tony to the toilet and then tugged his sweatpants and underwear down, ignoring the embarrassed flush on his face. “What?” she said, stepping back so he could sit down without her staring right at his junk. “You think this is something _new_? I hate to break it to you, but I’ve seen penises before, Stark. Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all,”

Tony stared down at the floor. “Can you at least – I don’t know – back up or something?”

“Alright, but it’s not like I haven’t seen you completely naked already,” she chuckled. She turned around, drawing the shower curtain around the bathtub to block it from view. Someone had thoughtfully put a towel over top of the bathroom mirror too, Tony noted, trying to void his bladder as quickly as possible.

“Do I really want to know when that happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Natasha turned as he flushed the toilet, eyeing him curiously. “I’m not surprised,” she said, helping him stand. She tugged his pants and underwear back up with ease, her eyes locked on his the entire time.

“Was I drunk?” Tony asked, wearily. “I’m betting I was drunk.”

“Oh, you were _drunk_ alright,” Natasha chuckled, ferrying Tony towards the sink so he could wash his hands. She rubbed her thumb over the back of his neck when he turned the water on. “You were so drunk, Pepper didn’t think you’d be able to stand,” she said, watching Tony rinse the soap off of his hands. She steadied him when the water splashed up his wrist. “It’s alright,”

“It’s not alright,” Tony said, his voice hoarse. He jammed his shaking hand under the water despite the taste of bile in the back of his throat, forcing himself to wait until every last goddamned soap bubble was gone. He turned the tap off with a vicious twist and leaned against the counter, trying to catch his breath. He was shaking all over, and his wrists and knees felt like they were made out of jelly; his sprained wrist was stiff. He shuddered, drawing in a deep, slow, breath. Oh god. The bandages against his skin were _wet_ –

Natasha rested her hand on the back of his neck again; he sagged into it, letting his eyes shut.

“It’ll take time,”

“I know,”

“Then don’t beat yourself up about it,” she said, pinching his earlobe.

He yelped and shot her a dirty look; it turned into a lopsided smile as her hands wrapped around his waist. The hug was unexpected, but much appreciated. “You’re really nice sometimes – did you know that?”

Natasha’s face went blank. “Don’t tell anyone – Coulson will make me rewrite my file and you know how much I hate paperwork,” she said, lifting Tony’s arm up over her shoulder again. “Let’s get you back to Steve, ok?”

“Alright,” Tony said, letting go of the counter. He was amazed he couldn’t see finger marks etched there in the wood when he let go.

 

They walked back one step at a time, making their way through the living room with Tony’s gaze firmly locked on the wall. Clint opened the door as they arrived, holding it open while they shuffled their way back inside. “The kid woke up. I’m going to go get him a bucket before does his best impression of a human sprinkler,” he said, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Steve blinked blearily up at Tony as they got closer to the bed. “Tony?” He shifted under his blanket, trying to reach out for Tony, frowning when the damp washcloth slid off of his forehead. He rubbed at the droplets of water still stuck to his skin, his eyes barely open. “What happened?”

“You passed out because you have a fever,” Tony grunted, letting Natasha slide him back onto the bed. He expected her to move away after that, but she didn’t; instead of leaving, she picked up his folded blanket and started shaking it out as though the thing could have accumulated dust somehow in the ten minutes they had been gone. He tried to squirm out from under her arm when she pounced on him with the blanket but failed to dislodge her and ended up having to sit still while she wrapped it around him. He sighed aloud as she adjusted the pile of pillows behind him, scowling at her so she wouldn’t think he liked her _too_ much. She didn’t seem to notice; she didn’t stop her ministrations until she had the blankets arranged the way she wanted them. She moved away once she was done, putting Steve’s washcloth back on his forehead, pausing only to check his temperature with the back of her hand again.

Steve closed his eyes, letting out a soft whimper. “My _stomach_ hurts,”

Tony tried to wiggle his way out of his blankets. He grumbled when Natasha knocked him backwards onto his pile of pillows and stared forlornly up at the ceiling.

“It’s alright,” Natasha said, sitting down beside Steve. She rubbed gentle circles on the kid’s stomach. “Does this feel better?”

“A little,” Steve admitted, his eyes still squeezed tightly shut.

“I’m going to go get you some medicine, alright? Clint’s going to come back in here and sit with you and Tony in a minute,” she said, still rubbing Steve’s stomach. “I promise it will feel better soon, little one,”

The door creaked as it opened; Clint stepped in, carrying an ice cream pail held over his head like it was the Holy Grail. “Hey guys,” he said, plopping himself down on the other side of the mattress beside Tony. He put the pail on the blankets beside Steve, eyeing it dubiously as though it might not be big enough. “You know, I didn’t sign up to deal with vomit,”

Natasha flicked Clint in the ear. “I think you’ll learn how to deal with it,”

Clint scowled at her, idly rubbing his wounded ear. He turned to Tony, leaning back against the pillows. “Can you believe this? She’s been flicking ears all damn day,”

Tony let his eyes droop shut. “Can you watch him for a bit?” he asked.

“Yeah – go ahead. Get some sleep,” Clint said, patting Tony on the stomach. “I’ll watch the rug rat.”

“You’re a jerk, Barton,” Tony murmured fondly as he fell asleep. He was pretty sure Clint told him to fuck off, but he couldn’t be sure.

 

 

Tony woke with a start, gasping for breath; he spent a few minutes panicking before he realized he was lying flat on his back on his _bed_ and not in the wet sand.

The door squealed and Clint wandered into the room carrying the plastic ice cream pail with him; it was wet. His nose wrinkled in disgust.

There was a faint odor of vomit hanging in the air, Tony realized as he gulped for breath. He was surprised he had slept through the chaos. “Is he ok?” he asked, squinting over his knees to get a look at the bed. The blanket Natasha had put on Steve was lying where Steve had been, but there was no sign of the kid. Tony struggled to get upright, unable to fight the urge to search for Steve. He swore loudly when Clint shoved him onto his back before he could even lift the blankets off of his legs.

“Relax, champ. Steve’s getting cleaned up in the bathroom with Phil. The little guy threw up all over himself,” Clint said, dropping down onto the bed. He made himself comfortable, propping himself up against the headboard. “It’s fine. We took care of it,”

“It’s not fine,” Tony grunted, peeling the blankets off of his arm. His injured wrist throbbed in protest; he tried to hide his whimper, but Clint heard him anyway and rolled over to get a look at what he had done.

Clint gingerly lifted up Tony’s injured arm, looking it over. He set it down on top of the blankets. “Take it easy, huh?” he said, untangling Tony’s other arm. “Did you hear me?” He poked at the Tony’s bandaged knuckles until Tony hissed at him and then went back to lounging against the headboard, his eyes half closed.

“How long was I out?” Tony asked, sagging reluctantly back into his mound of pillows. His body still felt heavy all over; he wondered idly if his pain medication was kicking in or if it was wearing off.

“You were asleep for a whole _fourty_ minutes,” Clint said, lifting his arm so he could check his watch. He whistled, letting his arm drop back onto the bed. “That’s got to be a new record.”

“Very funny,” Tony snapped, letting his eyes close again. He tried to force himself to stay awake by conjuring up memories of his workshop and the many projects he had waiting for him, but it was no use. He felt himself drifting off to sleep again before he could even start counting Pi.

 

 

Tony woke up screaming. He should have been used to it by now, but somehow it still managed to creep up on him. He fought with his blankets, trying to get free of them, convinced that someone was strangling him. He burst into tears when his wrist got trapped underneath him. The pain was excruciating; he was pretty sure he blacked out for a second before his brain told him what to do. He needed to beg, and fast. “I’ll do whatever you want,” he cried out, squeezing his eyes shut, sure that his captors were going to shove his head under the water again. “Just don’t do it again – _please_ ,”

When a hand dropped onto the back of his neck, Tony nearly started screaming all over again. The touch was gentle and warm this time – nothing like their hands had been – so he stilled, letting himself believe that things could be alright. He sobbed until he ran out of breath and then lay there, panting, clutching his arm to his chest.

“You’re ok,” Clint murmured into Tony’s ear. He rolled Tony onto his back so he wasn’t lying on his injured arm and draped the blankets over Tony’s shivering form, patting them down until Tony’s breathing evened out. “You were dreaming,”

“Are you sure?” Tony asked, wrenching open his eyes. The room was dark, and even though the curtains were closed, there were stars peeking through the fabric. He wanted to tell Clint to let him see them, but couldn’t bring himself to beg again.

“I’m sure,” Clint said, slipping off the bed. He padded around the mattress and kneeled down beside Tony. “Hey – Natasha got back a few minutes after you fell asleep,”

“Yeah?” Tony said, wiping tears from his eyes, trying to mop them up with his blankets before Clint could figure out what had happened.

“Yeah,” Clint said, rubbing his hand up and down Tony’s arm. It was clear that Clint was trying to be comforting but didn’t feel that way. It felt more like he was clawing at Tony’s sore skin instead of stroking it. Tony knew it wasn’t Clint’s fault – it was his mind playing tricks on him – but it was hard to ignore the phantom pain. He wanted nothing more than to pull away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Tony curled in on himself, pulling his arm against his chest. “Don’t,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut.

Clint let his hand drop. “We took Steve back to his room for now. He’s still kind of out of it. He keeps waking up all the time muttering about marbles and paper airplanes and shit. His fever’s going down though, so Bruce says he’ll be alright,”

Tony let out a stuttered sob. “I’m supposed to be taking care of him,” he whispered, putting his head in his hands. “Shit,”

“And you are,” Clint said, quickly, resting his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You need to take care of yourself first, remember? You need to be able to walk around in order to take care of him, so just concentrate on doing that, ok?”

“Ok,” Tony said. He opened his eyes, lowering his hands, almost lulled to sleep by the warmth of Clint’s hand on his shoulder. The touch didn’t hurt anymore; he was glad for the reprieve. He hoped it would last longer this time.

Sadly, his bladder didn’t feel like letting him rest. “I have to pee,” he whispered after a minute, trying to hide the flush of shame peppering his cheeks with his arm. God, this was like being a little kid all over again – only this time, there was no Jarvis to help him out. It would have been easier if he had been drunk – at least then he could make it into a joke. He felt Clint’s hand leave his shoulder and wanted to cry from the loss even though he knew Clint wasn’t going anywhere without him. Pull yourself together, Stark, he screamed in his head. Stop being so goddamned _weak_!

“Let’s go,” Clint said, rolling the blankets down Tony’s legs. After they were worked free, he turned to the sheets, peeling them away until he could get at Tony’s feet. “Can you sit up for me?”

Tony gritted his teeth and pushed his hands into the mattress until he could heave himself mostly upright. His arms shook; he managed to keep himself up until Clint could wrap his arms around his middle. He let Clint put him in a seated position, finding it easier when he didn’t have to do it all by himself.

“That’s good,” Clint said, smoothing Tony’s shirt down so it wasn’t riding up around his armpits anymore. “You’re doing really good, buddy,”

“I’m not an _invalid_ ,” Tony muttered, batting at Clint’s arm.

Clint smirked at him. “Obviously. Invalids are _nicer_ ,”

“ _Jerk_ ,” Tony muttered, scooting forwards across the bed so that Clint could help him stand. He braced himself against the archer until his knees locked, and let out a shaky breath, pleased by their success. He thought about trying to take a few steps towards the door on his own, but the nightmares were still tugging at him and he couldn’t bring himself to move without instruction. He hated that he got like that sometimes. He didn’t like that their voices still had power over him; he wished they would just shut the hell up and leave him alone.

Clint wrapped an arm around Tony’s middle, manoeuvering them towards the door in the dark. “Alright. We’ll take this one step at a time,”

“Ok,” Tony murmured, staring down at his bare feet.

There was sand on the floor.

He could still feel sand between his toes. _Oh god_ –

He pitched forwards, gagging, and was surprised to find himself still trapped in Clint’s strong grasp.

“ _Shit_ , Stark,” Clint grumbled, his fingers digging into Tony’s hip. “Warn me the next time you’re going to do that,”

Tony gagged again. He managed to keep himself from throwing up, but it was a very near thing. He leaned against Clint, resting his face against Clint’s throat, breathing raggedly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,”

“It’s alright,” Clint said, leaning his cheek against Tony’s head. “It was a dream, remember? It was just a dream.”

“A dream,” Tony repeated dully, taking in a deep breath through his nose. He could still taste salt in the back of his throat, but it was easier to ignore now. He chanced a look at his feet again and saw that there was no sand there. It had probably never been there to begin with. “Yeah. You’re right. It was just a dream.” He sagged against Clint for a minute while he got his bearings again and then straightened up. Well, at least he hadn’t pissed himself in fear. There was always _that_.

“We’re going to walk to the bathroom,” Clint said, moving them forwards.

“Ok,”

They reached the bedroom door; Clint wrestled it open and helped Tony out into the hall, slowing down as they rounded the corner so that Tony didn’t trip as the floor dipped. Tony raised his head, glancing around lethargically. The living room was dark except for the soft glow of a lone lamp in the corner of the room. Natasha was sitting beside it with her tablet balanced on her knees. The curtains were all drawn together, blocking out the starlight here too. She looked up, raising an eyebrow at him and then went back to staring at the tablet as though she hadn’t seen anything.

They made their way down the hall, pausing at Steve’s door. Clint pushed it open wide enough for Tony to catch a glimpse of Steve being tucked into bed and then marched Tony down the hallway to the bathroom before the kid could figure out who had poked their head in.

“He needs to sleep,” Clint said, nudging the bathroom door open with his elbow. He turned the light on, wincing in sympathy when Tony recoiled at the sudden change in light. “Do you want me to turn it off?”

“No,” Tony said, shaking his head. The only thing worse than having to go to the bathroom with the help of a friend would be having to do it in the dark.

Clint led Tony inside and then, to Tony’s dismay, he tugged Tony’s pants and underwear down for him. “Don’t look at me like that,” Clint grumbled, maneuvering Tony backwards so that he could sit down without ending up _in_ the toilet bowl instead of sitting on the toilet seat. “Everyone gets injured and needs a hand sometimes,”

“Yeah, well I bet you wouldn’t let Coulson help you take a piss,” Tony muttered, looking away.

Clint perched himself on the counter. “Oh please,” he snorted, looking at his fingernails. “Phil’s seen me do much, much worse things over the years. Taking a leak in front of him is probably the classiest thing I could do at this point,”

“Sure,” Tony muttered, trying to focus on the hideous circle of shag carpet sitting on the floor in front of the tub instead of on Clint. “I’m sure he’d be _real_ happy about that,”

“No one is happy about having to have someone wipe their ass, Stark,” Clint chuckled darkly. “But it happens,”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Tony groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I _hate_ you,”

“Cheer up,” Clint said, “at least you’re not in diapers.”

“You’re not _helping_ ,”

“I am _so_ helping,” Clint laughed. “Believe me – wait until you’re old. You’ll be begging a young guy to pull your pants down for you. Mind you, you’ll be hiking them back up to your armpits once you’re done, but I’ve heard that’s all the rage with old-timers like you,”

“I hate you so very much,” Tony said, wearily, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You say that now, but I helped you _pee_ ,” Clint said, solemnly. “You _owe_ me,”

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“Probably, but it’s not like I’m taking pictures so I can blackmail you. Besides – it’s not like I haven’t seen your junk before,”

Tony groaned, hanging his head. “Has _everyone_ seen me naked?”

“I don’t know about _everyone_ , but I know most of us have. Who do you think helped Natasha drag your sorry ass up to bed that time?”

Tony sighed. “Wonderful,”

“Well,” Clint said, with a shrug, “It could be worse. At least _you_ don’t have to worry about pictures of your giant green –”

“Are you two done in there?” Coulson’s voice boomed through the bathroom door. He rapped his knuckles on the frame. “Hello?”

“ _Occupado_ ,” Clint called out cheerfully, slipping off the counter. He glided towards the door, pulling it open just wide enough so that he could stick his head through the gap. “Tony’s busy. We’re having a private meeting,”

“Yes,” Coulson grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I got that. Can you two hurry it up? I think Steve has to go again,”

“Did the train stop at Vomit Town again?”

“Yes,”

“Anything I can do about it?” Clint asked, leaning against the door knob.

“Unless you’re made out of ginger ale and crackers, I don’t think there’s much you can do,” Coulson said with a sigh. “Just hurry it up, ok? There’s only so much room in the bucket I left him with,”

Clint shuddered. “That’s some beautiful imagery there, honey. _Thanks_ ,”

“At least you didn’t get to watch it happen,” Coulson grumbled. “Look, just hurry it up.”

“Alrighty,” Clint said. He pulled the door closed and crept back over to Tony, resting a hand on the counter so that he didn’t startle him. “Hey, you done?”

Tony flushed the toilet. “Did I tell you how much I hate you yet? Or was I saving that for later?”

“You told me already,” Clint said, helping Tony up. He made short work of Tony’s underwear and sweat pants, tugging them back into place. “You know, we should probably just keep the undies off. It would make things so much easier,”

“I’m _not_ walking around in a house with Steve if I’m not wearing underwear,” Tony muttered, bracing himself against the counter. “Adult Steve – sure. He could use a shock or two. Child Steve – no way in _hell_.” He washed his hands quickly, not looking away from the water until it ran clean and then shut the tap off, proud that his breathing was only a little rougher than normal. He grabbed the hand towel Clint offered him and wiped his hands. “I hate this,”

“So I noticed,” Clint said, taking the hand towel back. He hung it neatly on the towel bar and then wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist, throwing Tony’s good arm over his shoulder. “You know, I always wondered what dance lessons would be like,” he said as he opened the door, leading Tony out into the hallway.

“How is this even _close_ to dance lessons?” Tony asked, baffled. He caught sight of Steve as the kid was whisked past them by a hassled looking Coulson and winced when the bathroom door shut loudly behind them.

“I don’t know. We’re holding hands, aren’t we? Well, technically we’re not but I think this kind of counts.” Clint got Tony back to bed; he guided him down onto the mattress, casually fluffing Tony’s pillows until Tony was ready to lay down.

“You’re a freak, Barton,” Tony said, closing his eyes. He pulled his blankets up to his chin.

Clint flopped down onto the bed beside him and made himself comfortable, worming his way under Tony’s blanket; his toes were cold against Tony’s leg, but his toenails weren’t sharp. At least he wasn’t living up to his namesake.

Tony sighed, trying to ignore the way his body seemed to be enjoying Clint’s ambient warmth.

Maybe tomorrow would be better. If he was lucky, _everyone_ would be feeling stronger.

 

 

Tony woke up with a splitting headache and a hankering for bacon. He took the bacon craving as a sign that he was getting better and let Clint help him out of bed and into the bathroom without complaining once. After they were done, morning ablutions complete, he hobbled into the living room with Clint’s help, planning on sitting down at the kitchen table so he could demand breakfast. He had no idea who was going to make it, but he wanted his bacon extra crispy and he wanted it now.

He took one look around the living room where morning light was just slipping through the curtains and hobbled back to bed at double speed with Clint attached to his arm. It was too blue out here – too sandy and far too bright. His urge for bacon was gone.

At least today it was easier to get in and out of bed. Tony even managed to get under the covers again without Clint having to help him. He would have cheered aloud if he hadn’t been shaking like a leaf.

“I’d say that was pretty good, all things considered,” Clint said, stretching out lazily beside Tony. He fumbled with the blankets until he had built a half-nest out of them and then closed his eyes, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn. “Wake me up when breakfast is ready,”

“Yeah,” Tony muttered, snuggling under his side of the blankets. “I’ll get right on that.” He tried going back to sleep, but couldn’t get comfortable. There was a funny coughing noise coming through the wall and – oh.

 _Steve_!

Tony looked over and saw, to his disbelief, that Clint was fast asleep _already_. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, lifting the blankets off of his hip. They hadn’t even been back in bed for more than fifteen minutes, and that rat bastard was already dreaming! He thought about waking Clint up just to stick it to him and then decided against it. He needed to know what he could do alone, and this would be the perfect time to test things out. He slid his legs out from under the blankets and sat up.

So far so good.

His back wasn’t aching horribly, and his head didn’t feel like it was stuffed with cotton anymore; the headache had receded for the most part. Everything seemed to be behaving. He put his foot down on the floor and wiggled his toes. There was no sand here, he told himself, aware that he could still feel it there on his skin. There was no sand, and there was no water; there was only floor and carpet and Steve.

Steve needed him; he couldn’t sit around forever.

He stood up.

It wasn’t so bad, actually. Sure, his knees still felt like mush, and he was a little wobbly, but he could stand on his own. He would just have to put up with the itchy feeling on the soles of his feet until it went away for good. He made his way towards the door, trying not to grin at the discovery of new strength. Of course two seconds later he tripped on his own feet and went down on his hands and knees with a hoarse cry.

 _Fantastic_.

Clint was up and at Tony’s side in an instant. He felt at Tony’s knees and arms, trying to see if there was any damage, scowling the entire time.

Tony batted his hands away. “I’m fine,” he said with a grimace. “I can do it,”

“Uh huh,” Clint said, checking Tony’s bandaged wrist. “Didn’t we _just_ have a conversation about this?”

“You were asleep,” Tony grumbled, standing up. “I think you dreamed that part.” He caught a hold of Clint’s shoulder and held on as his arms and legs started shaking anew. “I don’t get this,” he said, glaring down at his traitorous legs. “I don’t – it wasn’t like he smashed my head into the…” Tony froze. He caught a flash of the Winter Soldier’s face; those eyes had been so cold – so empty – so deadly.

Clint wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulder and turned them both around, ignoring Tony’s feeble protests. “It’s not a problem with your body – believe me. I’ve been there. It’s all in your head. Just give it time, Stark,” he murmured, wrestling Tony back into bed. He smoothed the blankets down over Tony’s stomach. “It’s not forever,” he said, his voice turning soft, “It’ll be alright,”

“What if it _doesn’t_ get better this time?” Tony asked, quietly, staring down into his hands. He could see water and sand there still; he wanted to scrub at his fingers until they were clean, but there was no way to managed it – no way to keep the sand away. Even if he was back at the tower, he was pretty sure it would come with him. He looked up, hoping to see the answer in Clint’s eyes.

Clint’s smile was sad. “If it happens,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “we’ll deal with it.”

“That’s it?” Tony snorted. “ _That’s_ your nugget of wisdom? We’ll deal with it when it happens?”

Clint’s smile turned into a glare for a split second; he schooled his expression and stood up. “That’s life, Stark,” he said, heading towards the door. “I’m going to get breakfast going since our slaves hadn’t done it for us. Try not to concuss yourself on the floor while I’m gone, alright?”

“ _Asshole_ ,” Tony muttered.

 

 

Despite the setback, things did in fact get better; it didn’t even take that long, either. Within a day Tony was up and about, shambling around without help just like in the good old days. He still avoided looking out the windows if he could help it, but at least now he could move away from them when they snuck into view.

It was nice to be able to walk around again; being bedridden had always been a challenge and even though he hadn’t been there for months on end, he was glad that he wasn’t going to be trapped there anymore. He had done more than enough staring up at his ceiling, and he was looking forward to playing with Steve again. Unfortunately, the kid was still sick as a dog, so they weren’t going to be doing that any time soon.

Steve had spent most of his time bedridden too; he hadn’t gotten a change in scenery in a long time. Natasha had consulted with Bruce a handful of times already, but Tony wasn’t sure he agreed with the good Doctor’s ‘wait-and-see’ approach. It seemed a little creepy to him, but since he didn’t have a medical degree, he kept his thoughts to himself. He had a job to do, after all. He was ready to lend a hand now that he was mobile again, even if it was only to watch the security cameras on his tablet. He sought Clint out in the living room, wanting to get back to work, turning his body carefully away from the living room window. He leaned against the couch instead of sitting on it, enjoying his upright position.

“You’re _lurking_ ,” Clint said, not looking up from his tablet. He had been on surveillance duty ever since Natasha had declared she needed a break from it that morning; he had been surprisingly happy about it. It was probably because he was tired of carrying buckets of puke out of Steve’s room.

“I’m not lurking,” Tony grumbled, leaning harder against the couch. He had been _lurking_ in Steve’s room, but Coulson had chased him out when he had started fussing over the kid’s blankets. It wasn’t like he was _still_ lurking.

“I get that you want to be in there reading him stories and helping him colour, but he’s sick,” Clint said. “Let him rest.”

“He’s throwing up all the time,”

“He’s throwing up because he has the stomach flu. He’s not going to die,”

“He hasn’t been eating,”

“He _has_ been eating. He just hasn’t been doing it in front of you,” Clint grunted. He lowered the tablet, peering over top of it at Tony. “Look. You’re worried. I get it. You want to mother-hen the kid – we all do – but there is _nothing_ you can do about it.”

“I should be in there,” Tony muttered, trying not to stare a hole in Steve’s bedroom door.

“You can be in there when you can walk around without tipping over from one good push,” Clint said, shaking his head.

“I’m fine,”

“You’re saying that now, but when you’re hip deep in vomit, you’ll be singing another tune,”

“I don’t even want to think about that,” Tony sighed. He let go of the couch and started towards the kitchen. Coffee would be nice, right about now. If he was lucky there might even be some cream and sugar waiting for him. He got to the cupboard and was just about to open it up when Clint waved at him from the couch.

“Hey – before you get all coffee-absorbed, can you do Coulson a favor? Steve puked all over his sheets again. He needs some new ones,”

Tony shuffled away from the kitchen. “I love how that’s what you’re doing with your security camera privileges,”

“Hey,” Clint said, his gaze fixed once again on the tablet, “it works for me. Besides – what did I tell you about the whole being hip deep in vomit thing?”

“I hate you,” Tony muttered, grabbing the closet door.

Clint looked up sharply. “Wait – hold up. They’re not in there anymore,”

Tony pulled the door open, rolling his eyes. “And why _wouldn’t_ they be in here? It’s a closet.” He stared inside the closet for a full three seconds, taking in the sight of the Winter Soldier in the dim light; the man stared right back at him, although his gaze wasn’t steady. The assassin was duct taped to a chair that had been crammed into the very back of the closet. He wasn’t going anywhere – at least not for now. The chair was nailed to the ground. In hindsight, Tony thought as he slowly closed the door and backed away from it, he should have guessed that something like this had happened.

Dear god – how long had that _bastard_ been here?

 _Oh_ – _oh_ – the _fucker_ had been here the entire time, hadn’t he?

_He had been here the entire time – he had been here – he had been near Steve –_

“Tony?”

Tony continued to move backwards until his legs hit the back of the couch. He stood frozen in place, bracing himself against the back of the couch, his eyes locked on the closet door. His breath caught in his chest.

“ _Oh shit_ – are you ok?” Clint dropped the tablet onto the coffee table and moved around the couch, catching Tony before he could topple onto the floor. “Hey – _you’re fine_. We’re _all_ fine,”

“How long?” Tony asked, hoarsely, his heart hammering in his chest.

“He’s been here since Natasha knocked him out,” Clint said, “but we’ve been watching him the entire time – I swear. It’s fine.”

“What else aren’t you telling me?” Tony squashed down a wave of nausea. His vision blurred around the edges; he was vaguely aware that he was close to hyperventilating, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“We were going to tell you when you were feeling better,” Clint grumbled, getting Tony settled comfortably on the floor. He snatched the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over Tony’s shoulders. “Keeping him tied up in his place was too dangerous. We couldn’t risk spreading ourselves out after what happened – you were babbling away and I wasn’t much help with my concussion,”

“So you left _me_ – you left _him in the house_?” Tony stared wide-eyed at Clint. “You left _him_ near _Steve_? You left him _conscious_?”

“He’s heavily sedated,” Clint grumbled, glancing over his shoulder at the closet door. “Believe me. I didn’t like it either, but we needed to know how much he knew about us. We couldn’t just _kill_ him,”

“Why not?” Tony said, thickly. He wiped at his eyes, trying to ignore the images of water and the Winter Soldier’s cold eyes as they tore through his mind with every blink; his fight proved futile. He could hear the bastard’s words in his head. He couldn’t drown anything out no matter how hard he tried. The words got louder and louder, blending together until all he could hear was the sound of the waves sloshing into his ears. He shuddered, clutching feebly at the blanket.

“He claims he’s Bucky Barnes,” Clint murmured. “ _Shit_ – just hold on a sec, ok?” He stood up and sprinted down the hall, picking up a sheet from the pile of laundry lying beside Coulson’s bedroom door; the rest of the clean laundry hit the floor in a flood of fabric, but he ignored it.

Steve’s bedroom door opened with a snap.

Clint thrust sheet into a surprised Coulson’s arms and then turned back to Tony, his hands migrating to his hips. “He found our _guest_ ,” Clint said, speaking just loud enough so that Tony and Coulson could hear him.

Coulson sighed aloud. “Alright. We’ll talk when I’m done cleaning Steve up. We’ve put this off long enough,”

“I’ll take Tony back to his room,” Clint said, nodding in Tony’s direction. He moved slower now, as if approaching an easily spooked animal; he knelt down in front of Tony and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around Tony’s middle in a half-hug. “It’s alright,”

“It’s not safe having him here,” Tony mumbled into Clint’s ear. He forced himself to stand, resisting the urge to crumple up in a ball on the floor. He let himself be lead back to his bedroom with Clint’s help, worrying at his lower lip the entire time. The trip felt like it took forever; every step felt like agony, but not because he was in pain. He kept seeing the beach in his peripheral vision, kept smelling salt and the faint stink of stale alcohol. Thankfully there were no screams this time – not even his own. He moved easily, settling down on his mattress, barely aware of where he was.

His bedroom was dark by the time he opened his eyes again. He looked around, feeling dizzy, and noticed after a minute of watching the world spin that Clint was sitting on the bed beside him, watching him. He squinted at Clint.

“Don’t give me that look,” Clint muttered, resting his head in his hands. “I voted on your side,”

“I’m don’t know what that means,” Tony growled, giving his head a shake. He wondered how long it had taken them to make their little plans. A few hours? A few minutes? They obviously hadn’t been concerned with bringing _him_ into the equation. He had thought they were a team.

“We couldn’t get anything lucid out of you – at least not enough to do any good,” Clint said, straightening up. “That first night, you were a mess. We didn’t want to make it worse by talking to you about it. Every time someone came close you ducked and flinched away.”

“Yeah,” Tony gritted out. He kept his voice low only because Steve was trying to rest in the other room. “That seems like a good decision. Keep me in the dark, because it’s _so_ much easier to understand when I have to stumble onto the guy when I’m looking for _clean sheets_ ,”

Clint looked away sheepishly. “Look – I’ll admit I didn’t make the best call, but it’s not like we had anywhere else to keep him. There aren’t any basements around for convenient creep dumping. It was the closet or nothing,”

“You could have told me about it,” Tony snapped. “I was a little off – I wasn’t _insane_ ,”

“I had a conversation with you about thumbscrews and car batteries,” Clint said, quietly, still not looking at Tony. “I didn’t think you were ready to think about your new torturer,”

Tony fell silent. He looked down at his hands, picking at his wrapped up wrist. Clint was probably right. Would he have been able to handle knowing that the Winter Soldier was there, stashed away in the closet the entire time? He had barely been mobile before, and now he felt like he was crippled all over again. He wanted to be angry, but somehow the anger he had been cultivating had deserted him, fleeing in the face of new knowledge. He could hear the Winter Soldier’s words clearly, even though the images of him had long since faded. It was as if he was sitting behind him, whispering in Tony’s ear.

 _You’re pathetic, Stark_.

_They made a mistake leaving you in charge, Stark, you know that, don’t you?_

_It’s your fault._

_Everything that happens after this is on you._

_They’re going to rip that kid apart to get at the serum. It doesn’t matter what I do to him – it’ll be like a tea party compared to what they’re going to do – and you condemned him to it._

“Tony!” Clint’s voice was sharp, cutting through Tony’s thoughts. “Tony, you need to stop letting him into your head,”

Tony looked up from his hands. He could feel fresh tears on his cheeks, although he had no idea how long they had been there for. He sniffled, wanting to bury his face in his hands; he didn’t. He needed to be strong now.

“What’s done is done,” Clint murmured, pulling Tony against him. “You did a good job. You did the best you could with what you had, and there is _nothing_ for you to be ashamed about. I don’t know what he said to you, but I do know this. You held him off single-handed. You didn’t have a gun – you didn’t have your suit – you had your bare hands and you _still_ held him off. There is nothing weak about being beaten by a trained assassin. Lesser men would have died,”

Tony wiped at his eyes, smearing his tears across his bandaged wrist. “I know that,”

Clint chuckled. “You know how he took me down?”

“No,”

“He hit me in the head with a fucking bottle of wild turkey bourbon. At least _you_ got to punch him,”

“I nearly broke my arm,” Tony murmured, ruefully. “I don’t think that counts as getting even with him,”

“Don’t even try that shit with me,” Clint said, patting Tony on the back. “It still counts. How were you supposed to know the fucker had a robot arm? We all thought he was a drunken _bum_ ,”

“Speaking of that,” Tony said, frowning. “How did you disable it?” He didn’t want to think about the Winter Soldier anymore, but he needed to know what they had done. Tech was his domain and he was damned if he was going to let something like a robotic arm get the better of them. This time they would be prepared; this he could handle. He shucked the blanket from his shoulders.

“We popped the thing off when he was unconscious,” Clint said with a devilish grin. “It came off real easy – well, once I got a screwdriver in there,”

Tony winced. He didn’t like the Winter Soldier, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be sympathetic. Judging by the arm’s movement speed, the thing had to have been wired into the guy’s neural pathways somehow; ripping it off must have hurt like hell.

“Can it work when it’s detached?” Tony asked, drumming his finger on his lower lip. He had been thinking about getting Stark International involved in replacement limb technology for a while now; the plans flowed easily into his mind. The stuff he had worked on his workshop was far more advanced – far cleaner and sleeker than what the assassin had used. The Winter Soldier’s arm hadn’t been as responsive as it _could_ have been, that was for sure. If Tony had been the one to build it, it would have been far better at doing its job – but he _hadn’t_ been the one to build it.

So who had?

There had to be identifiers tagged on machinery, something coded in so that it was recognizable for parts replacement. Whoever had engineered it wouldn’t have left something like that to chance. The parts would have to be somewhere with easy access, and it had to have been built by someone who had money. These things didn’t come cheap, after all. Was AIM directly involved with it? Could it be Hydra pulling strings? Or was it another group entirely? There were too many variables – too many players they didn’t know enough about. Something had to be there – he just needed to find it. Even with the information they had had at their disposal, they hadn’t been able to see the Winter Soldier coming. So what was missing? What had they forgotten in their haste to get Steve to safety?

“His arm’s lying in the crisper right now,” Clint said, “so no. I don’t think it’s functional now that it’s not attached to him,”

“You stashed his robotic arm in the _fridge_?” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Whose bright idea was _that_?”

“Hey,” Clint said, crossing his arms over his chest, “We wanted to keep it somewhere he wouldn’t look,”

Tony snorted. “So you _expected_ him to escape?”

“No,” Clint grunted. “It was a _contingency_ plan.”

This was too good. Tony’s lip twitched.

“What if he escapes and gets a hankering for fresh fruit?” Tony asked, trying not to laugh.

Oh god.

That felt _good_.

He wrinkled his nose, holding in the giggles threatening to consume him. The Winter Soldier, prized assassin working for Hydra and AIM and god knows who else, was tied up in their linen closet; his arm was sitting in their crisper like it was one of the apples Coulson had picked up from the grocery store.

Clint smiled. “There’s the old Tony,”

Tony smirked. “You guys are _crazy_ – did you know that?”

“We know. That’s why Fury hired us – well, that and we all know how to count without taking our shoes off,”

Tony ran his good hand through his hair. “So what’s happening now? Are Natasha and Coulson coming in to debrief me or what?”

“I have no idea, man,” Clint said, with a shrug. “Nat’s outside checking the perimeter again, and Coulson’s swabbing up puke. I’m thinking it might take a while,”

“Great,” Tony grumbled. He stood up, shoving the blanket away before it could get dragged along after him. “Look, can we talk about this later? I want to go check on Steve,”

“Tony,”

“No – _look_. I get it. I’m unstable right now. I get that part – believe me, I do. I just want to see if he’s ok,” Tony said, heading towards the door.

“Alright, _alright_ – we’ll go see the kid, and then we’ll come back here and debrief, ok?” Clint muttered. He jumped up off the bed and pushed his way in front of Tony, putting himself in the middle of the doorframe so he couldn’t sneak out. “But look,” Clint sighed. “If the kid asks about _Bucky_ , don’t say anything, ok?”

“Steve doesn’t know he’s in the closet?”

“He knows,” Clint said, leading them out into the living room. “We just don’t want to get his hopes up about it really being Barnes. For all we know, the guy’s playing with us,”

“You think it’s a sympathy tactic?” Tony asked, cocking an eyebrow. He had tried to avoid thinking about the words the Winter Soldier had used when he had been cradling Steve against his chest. He wasn’t entirely sure he could trust his memories from that night, truth be told, but those last words had seemed almost… sincere. There was no way to be sure though. Too much of the rest of the night was garbled, mixed in with his memories of the cave and Afghanistan. He had an eidetic memory, but it didn’t help much with _understanding_ what he had stored in his head. He was going to have to get a notebook to write it all down in. Maybe that would help make things clearer.

“Well, we’ll figure it all out when the lab results get back,” Clint said.

“You took blood samples?”

“Surprisingly, he didn’t put up much of a fight. He seemed to _want_ us to take it,” Clint said, heading down the hall.

“What the fuck does _that_ mean?” Tony asked, with a scowl.

“It means we’re back to our original plan. We wait and see,”

 

 

When they got to Steve’s room, Clint stepped to the side; Coulson smiled at Tony as he headed out the door. “He’s doing a lot better right now. If you can get him to sip a bit of water and eat a few crackers, you’ll be my hero,”

Tony nodded, letting the door close behind him.

Steve’s room was dimly lit, but it wasn’t as dark as Tony’s. The curtains were drawn up till the edge of the open window so that fresh air could circulate the room, but even with the window open, there was still a faint odor of vomit in the air. Tony moved unhurriedly, navigating the room with a hand resting on the backs of the chairs sitting out around the bed. There were four of them, all in varying states of use; he recognized most of them from the kitchen. He had wondered where they had disappeared to.

He hadn’t been in here since the Winter Soldier had attacked, and while he recognized the room, bits of it had changed. There was a wooden TV tray sitting beside the night stand now. It had a bottle of water and a box of saltines sitting on it, along with a small stack of used Kleenex boxes. The colouring books that had been on Steve’s dresser day and night were gone, replaced with stacks of fresh washcloths and paper towel for quick mop ups. If this was Steve ‘doing better’, Tony was a little afraid to find out what it had been like before. They had been hiding this from him too, it seemed. There were far too many unanswered questions now. The others were going to get an earful as soon as he got out of here.

Steve opened his eyes bit by bit as he heard Tony approach.

“Hey,” Tony said, wrestling a chair against the bed so he could sit close by without making the bed move. The last thing he wanted was to make the kid puke because the bed dipped when he sat down. “How are you feeling?”

“ _Bad_ ,” Steve said, rolling onto his side so he could get a better look at Tony. “How are you?”

Tony shrugged. “I’ve been worse,”

Steve’s face scrunched up; he looked ready to cry.

Tony reached out and ran his fingers through Steve’s hair. “It’s ok, kiddo. I’m a lot better now. I’m walking around and _everything_ ,”

Steve smiled shyly, leaning into Tony’s touch. His skin was sticky with sweat and something that smelled faintly sweet and while the kid was still pale, he didn’t look like he was going to ralph all over the place anytime soon. The kid could use a bath or two – not that Tony was one to talk – but other than that he looked _almost_ normal.

“I’m hungry,” Steve said, sighing morosely. He looked at the box of crackers, licking his dry lips.

“Afraid you can’t keep it down?” Tony asked, retrieving the box.

Steve nodded, sitting up. “I threw up,” he said, his face flushing. “It was really gross,”

“Yeah,” Tony chuckled, pulling out a handful of crackers. “I know the feeling.” He handed a cracker to Steve and snatched the bottle of water off of the TV stand, twisting the lid off; it was a little awkward considering he couldn’t really move his dominant hand all that easily, but it wasn’t as painful as it could have been. On the plus side, water even stayed in the bottle and didn’t end up in his lap. He was more than happy with that part. He handed the bottle to Steve, steadying it so the kid didn’t accidentally dump it all the place. He watched as Steve nibbled away at the cracker and couldn’t help but smile at him.

When Steve was finished with the first cracker, he licked the salt and cracker crumbs off his fingers. “Thanks,”

“Not a problem,” Tony said. The little guy was obviously hungry. That had to be a good sign. He handed the kid another cracker and leaned back in his chair, nibbling at a cracker of his own, enjoying the distraction. He missed sitting around with Steve; they were just eating crackers, but it felt like Christmas morning somehow. He sighed, reaching for the cracker box again.

“Are you _sure_ you’re ok?” Steve asked, taking a careful sip of water.

“I’m just enjoying the quiet,” Tony said. He fished out another cracker and handed it to Steve, wiggling it in front of Steve’s face when the kid didn’t take it immediately.

“Can you read to me again?” Steve asked, taking the cracker and breaking it in half.

“Sure,” Tony said.

Coulson knocked on the door. “Tony? We’re ready to start now,”

Tony sighed aloud, setting the cracker box down on the TV tray.

Great.

Time for the disaster debriefing.

He could hardly wait.

He got up, giving Steve another cracker and ruffled his hair before heading towards the door. “I’ll be back in a bit, ok? We’re having a meeting,”

“Oh,” Steve said, taking a long draught of water. “Ok. You’re coming back after, right?”

“Yep,” Tony said, pulling open the door. He flashed Steve a smile. He wasn’t looking forward to the debriefing, but at least now he had something to do when it finished.       

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you spot anything strange in here! I'm sorry I didn't get this up last week, but I got a little lazy/distracted by all the black Friday sales/Christmas shopping, and procrastinated a bit too much on it. here's an extra long chapter to make up for it! Regular updates should return for next week, although I might slow down a little near Christmas! Thanks for your patience!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reports were in. The Winter Soldier really was Bucky Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I had a lot of stuff to do this weekend, so I didn't get a chance to finish this up until tonight. Oh well - at least you guys get a long chapter this time! : )
> 
> Warnings for lots of angst and mentions of torture again.

Tony slipped back into his room without a word, remerging with his trusty toolkit tucked under his arm; he made his way into the kitchen, deliberately ignoring the way everyone was looking at him as though they expected him to start screaming at any moment. He was in control this time; his fear wasn’t going to get to him. He set the toolkit down on the table, threw open the fridge and pulled the Winter Soldier’s mechanical arm out of the crisper as quickly as possible. It really was a beautiful piece of machinery – once you got past the whole ‘it nearly drowned me’ thing, he thought with a grimace.

“Are you sure you should be touching that in your condition?” Clint asked, cocking his head to the side. He set Tony’s tablet down on the table and pulled a chair out so Tony could have somewhere to sit. He perched himself on the counter beside the sink, and sat there, swinging his legs idly, his attention on the mechanical arm.

Tony scowled at him, but sat down in the proffered chair, pulling his tablet and tools closer. “What _condition_? Do I look like I’m nine months pregnant to you? I think I’m offended,”

“You’re offended by _what_? The fact that you’re _not_ pregnant?” Clint asked, grinning.

“If I was, I wouldn’t tell you,” Tony muttered, opening up his toolkit. He fished out a screwdriver without looking, knowing the size through touch alone and started taking apart the mechanical arm. “You’re _mean_ – that goes for all of you,” he said, gesturing to each of them in turn with the screwdriver.

“We did what had to be done,” Natasha said, her hands settling on her hips. “What did you expect us to do? Wait until you were ready to talk about it?”

“I _expected_ to be part of the team,” Tony said, looking up sharply. “I _get_ that I’m not going to be going out there singing and dancing on parade like usual, but I _deserved_ to know that you were keeping a homicidal maniac locked up in the goddamned _closet_ ,”

“Alright,” Natasha said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. “I agree that we should have said something sooner,”

“Agreed,” Coulson said, stalking further into the kitchen. He leaned his hip against the counter and took his place beside Clint. “I hate to do this, but I think we need to move on for now.”

Tony sighed, trying not to dwell on the fact that no one had apologized for what they had done; he hadn’t really expected it, but it would have been nice. He filed the hurt away for future use, focusing on work. “Fine,” he said, searching for the hidden screws within the mechanical arm’s metal plating. The arm was far more interesting than he had expected. What he could see so far made him very, very unhappy; it wasn’t that the workmanship was bad – it was more that it was almost too _good_. The system wasn’t advanced, but that didn’t make it any less powerful. He could tell at first glance that it hadn’t been designed all at once; there was no one design, no one architect. Some of the arm was using work that he recognized, and that was what made it all the more terrifying. This was tech he knew had been hidden away with well-timed deals and payouts – stuff that shouldn’t have been out in public. His father had been responsible for some of those deals, but he had inherited the task of hiding the rest. He had thought he had gotten all of it, but apparently some of it had slipped through his fingers and if he was right, there was something in here that was a lot more dangerous than any of them had expected.

“So Doctor Banner sent back the test results,” Coulson said. “They’re positive that the man we have is, in fact, James Buchannan ‘Bucky’ Barnes,”

Tony nearly dropped his screwdriver. “You’re _shitting_ me,”

“Sadly, I’m not. We sent in three separate vials of blood to be sure, because we didn’t believe it either. Both Jarvis and Doctor Banner have confirmed it through DNA analysis. I don’t know how they got the DNA they compared it to, but if they say it’s a match, I’m inclined to think they’re telling the truth,” Coulson said. “I don’t think anyone knew about him before now. Bucky Barnes was lost in combat during World War Two – he _died_ while out with the Captain.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony said, fiddling with the next chunk of paneling in his way, “Shit happens. I don’t think any of us had any way of knowing who he was,”

Natasha glared at Tony, but didn’t say anything, clearly expecting a jibe.

“Don’t worry, Nat,” Tony said, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he got at the last sealing pin with his screwdriver, “If it’s any consolation and this is what I think it is, the Red Room was a lot more technologically advanced than we knew,”

Natasha stood up and moved closer, peering over Tony’s shoulder as he worked. “What did you find?”

“Well,” Tony said, setting the mechanical arm down on the table. He held up a chip that, while new, didn’t look all that impressive. “I can confirm that they’ve got cloaking technology,” he said, setting the chip down on his tablet so it could be scanned, the data sent into his private server.

“ _Cloaking_?” Coulson looked shocked. “That’s not possible. We have their files – they weren’t working on anything that complicated,”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, Phil, but you’re wrong. It’s been done,” Tony said, taking the chip off of the tablet. He scrolled through the results of the scan, pausing to frown at the readings. “It’s not perfect – far from it – but it works. Personally, I would have gone another route entirely, but you know – not everyone can be _me_. Some of what’s here is a little sloppy, but I guess they did good work with what they had,”

“ _Meaning_?” Coulson grumbled.

“Meaning it doesn’t work with everything,” Tony said, turning back to the mostly-cannibalized arm, “The arm has cloaking in it that can mess with security cameras, and that’s pretty much it. It makes a sort of bubble around him so that all you ever see is a bunch of pre-programmed images. It’s pretty funny, actually, because the frame rate it works with would make it chug like a _motherfucker_ ,”

“Lovely,” Coulson sighed. “Is there anything else we should know?”

Tony rolled his shoulders. “Well, for one thing, the image display doesn’t work if someone sees him in person. Its heavy work – graphic intensive and inefficient as hell, too. The chip’s connections are practically burnt out from all the work its had to do to keep him cloaked while he was under surveillance, so I don’t think it’s going to keep working for long,”

“Can you fix it?” Natasha asked.

“The question isn’t _if_ I can fix it – it’s _why would I want to_?” Tony said, diving back into the arm. It was all familiar circuitry here, although most of it had been retired for years after better designs had come along. It was a little eerie, to be honest; it was a little like rooting through an open grave. He could recognize at least _five_ different designs working within the arm now that he was deeper inside it; he wasn’t surprised that it had found its way into a robotic arm. Even if it was a mishmash of tech, everything was necessary for it to function. The real question was who had worked it all together. Most of the men and women who had contributed to these designs had been working in robotics and early neuroscience when _Howard Stark_ had been the King of the Engineering world; the Red Room had been around then, hidden, of course, so it stood to reason that it had probably leeched the information when it had still been fresh. Now things were getting tricky. Most of the people involved were probably dead or nearly there, and if SHIELD hadn’t picked up on it, then it obviously hadn’t been computerized; paper was much easier to hide. There would be no easy way to track most of the work now – unless they used a séance. Tony scowled, pushing a wire out of the way to get at a new screw. This was going to be a pain in the ass.

“If he’s on our side now – _like he claims_ ,” Natasha said, still leaning over Tony’s shoulder, “Then his arm needs to be in fully functional in case of emergencies,”

Tony quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Can you fix it?”

“Of course I can,”

“So do it. Make it useful again,”

“I’m sorry, but do you have a death wish?”

“I’ve seen him in the field,” Natasha sighed, setting her hand on Tony’s shoulder. “He’s dangerous, but if he’s really who he says he is, I think we can trust him to help us,”

Tony’s stomach felt like it had frozen over. He swallowed down a mouthful of bile and focused on putting the arm back together again. “You’re _assuming_ we can trust him,” he said, reconnecting the wires under his thumb. “He might not be the real Barnes – _mentally_ , at least. He got hit in the head a few times – that does not make him any less of a psychopath.”

“Hey,” Clint said, looking hurt.

“No offence,” Tony said. “You were under a different kind of mind control,”

Clint tensed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, offense taken,”

Coulson put his hand on Clint’s knee, gently squeezing it. “He’s right. This isn’t quite the same,”

Clint scowled at Coulson. “Yeah, well,”

“I think he’s an asset we should use,” Natasha said with a growl. “But I don’t mean we have to use him right _now_ ,”

Tony scowled down at the arm in his lap. “Yeah, Nat, I _get_ that,”

“No one is saying you have to _like_ it,” Natasha said. She patted Tony’s shoulder and stepped back, walking around the kitchen table towards the fridge, pausing there with her hand on the door handle. “He hasn’t eaten in a while,”

“I see,” Tony gritted out, wishing he could be knee deep in his armor. At least _it_ wouldn’t be giving him shit. He snapped the cloaking chip back in place inside the arm and started folding the wires back in, all the while wondering if he could get away with sabotaging the thing. Maybe he could slip a self-destruct code into the arm’s core programming for _safety’s_ sake; he hadn’t hooked the thing up to a console directly yet, but he knew he could manage to put in some new code even with his tablet’s somewhat meager extensions. He would enjoy playing ‘stop hitting yourself’ with the Winter Soldier – he was pretty sure about _that_. It wouldn’t even take that much code, either.

“Are you going to be alright if I bring him out here?” Natasha asked, turning on her heels to get a better look at Tony’s face.

Tony stabbed himself in the thumb by accident as his screwdriver slipped over the arm’s metal plating; he cursed, sticking his injured thumb in his mouth, and glared at Natasha, blaming her for _everything_. He didn’t bother saying anything out loud; she _knew_.

“I take it that’s a _no_ ,” Natasha chuckled. She pulled open the fridge and started taking things out, tossing everything onto the counter beside Clint. “I think sandwiches will work,”

“Probably,” Clint said, picking up the jar of pickles after she set them down beside him. He twisted the lid open and stole one before Coulson could take it away from him. He chewed the ends off and spit them out, dumping them in the garbage can before devouring the rest. “He can’t stab you with a sandwich, that’s for sure,”

“I’m assuming we’re going to wean him off the sedatives now that we know who he really is,” Natasha murmured, closing the fridge with her hip.

“You’re kidding, right?” Tony turned to Coulson, horrified. “Tell me you’re kidding,”

Coulson looked from Natasha to Tony with a pinched expression on his face. “I think we need more information before we let him have full control of himself again,” he said, shaking his head. “I know we want to get this over with, but it still feels like he’s hiding something,”

“We’ve had him in our closet for a week,” Natasha said with an annoyed huff. “He’s told us everything he knows,”

“Such as? Let me remind you that I’m still waiting to be filled in,” Tony growled, pushing the last screw back in place. He set the reassembled mechanical arm down on the table, reluctantly putting his screwdriver away. He looked around for something new to fiddle with, but couldn’t find anything within reach.

Coulson sighed, and pushed the pickle jar away from Clint and towards Natasha’s elbow. “I guess we should start with a recap, then,”

“I would appreciate that,” Tony grunted. “So you took vials of the Winter Soldier’s blood and sent them in for testing after he told you that he knows Steve because he was Bucky Barnes and they were besties,”

“Correct,” Coulson said, taking a loaf of bread out of the breadbox. He divided the slices up into pairs, setting out enough for everyone, including their prisoner.

“And then what?” Tony asked, turning to Natasha. “You stuffed him in the closet and waited for proof to arrive via carrier pigeon? Email? Phone call?”

“Not exactly,” Clint said, looking sheepish.

“What did you do?” Tony sighed.

“Well, he was drugged out of his gourd for the most part, so you’re not entirely wrong about him being stuffed into the closet,” Coulson admitted.

“We interrogated him before we stuffed him in there,” Clint said, nodding towards the closet. “His arm came off _first_ – _then_ he started talking,”

“You ripped his _arm_ off and told him to _talk_?” Tony rested his hands on his knees, bracing himself. “So you tortured him,” he said, trying to ignore the way his stomach was now roiling in displeasure.

Clint shrugged. “I guess you could call it that,”

Tony wrapped an arm around his middle, trying to stay calm as flashes of water and light tore through his thoughts. He had known that SHIELD didn’t operate the same way a normal police agency would; they did whatever it was they needed to do to get information out of a target, and _illegal_ didn’t quite mean the same thing to them as it did to everyone else. He didn’t like that they tortured people, but it wasn’t exactly as if he hadn’t known they were capable of it. All of the agents were trained to kill, after all. Torture wasn’t that far out of the way once death came into the picture.

“Don’t worry,” Clint said, seeming to sense Tony’s unease. “It’s not like we burned him with cigarettes or electrocuted his balls or something,”

Tony flinched.

“ _Shit_ – sorry,” Clint said, hopping off the counter. He sat down on the kitchen table, ignoring the dirty look Coulson gave him and wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulder, reeling him in so that they were side by side. “Look. I’ll avoid the details about that part – but I’m telling you, what we did wasn’t as bad as it could have been. He gave us the information we needed – we barely had to ask,”

Tony shrugged his shoulders, pushing Clint’s arm away. “I still don’t like it,”

“I know you don’t like it. That’s why you weren’t out in the living room while it was happening. Why do you think we had the door closed the entire time you were recovering?” Clint grumbled.

Tony looked down at his socks, trying to keep calm. He had sensed that something was off, but he hadn’t been able to figure out what it had been; they were good actors – far _too_ good. He closed his eyes, taking in slow, measured breaths.

He knew them; they were his friends.

He knew they weren’t the kind of people to hurt someone without a damned good reason – they weren’t _monsters_ ; they weren’t the men from the cave.

He opened his eyes gradually, looking up despite the way his mind was telling him to cringe and cower. He watched Natasha as she assembled sandwiches on the counter a few feet away; it all looked _normal_. She didn’t _look_ like she was preparing to feed a captive. She looked like she was making lunch for them, and yeah, while that was a little out of character for her, he had seen her do it before – it wasn’t _strange_ , just unlikely. The Winter Soldier wouldn’t have treated them so kindly if things had gone in his favor, Tony reminded himself. The assassin wouldn’t have thrown _them_ into a closet and locked them up; he wouldn’t have fed them sandwiches. Tony had sensed that much that night on the beach. They had been lucky the Winter Soldier had taken those blows to the head, or else they would all be dead.

Tony knew he couldn’t do what they had done – he couldn’t torture people for information. Natasha could though; she had probably done it frequently, judging by the way she had been so nonchalant about it. She was part of that world. Hell, she had been a part of the Winter Soldier’s life, even if it had only been for a short while. There was probably a lot he didn’t know about what SHIELD agents did; he wondered if he should be afraid of her. Being afraid seemed like a smart idea, all things considered.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Natasha said, softly. “You’re right to be scared of me. I know what you see in him. I was trained the same way – we’re the same, he and I, but I’m on your side, Tony. You have to believe that,”

“I do believe it,” Tony mumbled. “I do. It’s just,”

“Just what?” Natasha asked, setting a finished sandwich on a chopping board beside her. She moved on to the next one, slicing through cheese and tomatoes with ease.

“Do you trust him?” Tony asked.

Natasha stilled.

“You worked with him. You know him – at least, you know him better than we do. Do you think he’s really on our side?” Tony shifted nervously in his chair. He tensed when Natasha’s hand moved to set a slice of cheese on the next set of bread.

“I trust him,” Natasha said after a minute, setting her knife down. “I know what the programing is like and I know that he didn’t want it any more than I did. He didn’t have a choice,” she said, assembling the last sandwich. “No one did, back then. But he has the choice now, and I don’t think he’s going to waste it. I know I didn’t,”

“Alright,” Tony said. He wasn’t so sure he could trust the Winter Soldier – _Bucky Barnes_ , he reminded himself – but he knew he could trust Natasha and her judgement. She was terrifying at times, but she had never betrayed him before and he didn’t think she would anytime soon. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I guess we’re going to have to take him off the drugs,”

Clint squeezed Tony’s shoulder, digging his fingers into the knotted muscles he found there. “You _sure_ you’re ok with this?”

“I’m sure,” Tony said, relaxing under Clint’s touch. “But I do have one condition.”

“Shoot,” Clint said.

“I want all the information you have – every last thing you got from him – before you do it. You can do whatever you want afterwards, but I want to know everything,”

“It’s already on your tablet,” Coulson said, picking up a sandwich and putting it on a plate. He carried the plate over, setting it down beside Tony, and slid Tony’s tablet closer, tapping on it until he found the files he was looking for; he lifted it up and put it tablet in Tony’s hands. “We didn’t hide anything. We just wanted to make sure you were ready when you found it,”

Tony swallowed hard. “Thanks,”

“Don’t thank me,” Coulson said, flashing Tony a gentle smile. “That’s what friends are for,”

 

 

The files were short, but they were packed with information. Tony had finished reading through them all by the time the others had finished eating their sandwiches; he wasn’t entirely satisfied with what they had gleaned from the Winter Soldier and his operation, but he could tell that there were some things the Winter Soldier just didn’t know about his employer. The assassin had been hired by someone called John Smith. It was a fake name – a very obvious one at that – but that hadn’t been all that important to the Winter Soldier. The assassin had taken on the contract as soon as it had been offered to him; when things were finished, he would have waked away with a clean two million, which would have been more than enough for him to use to vanish again. There were details missing here, though, things that Tony found himself needing to know.

Why had John Smith helped out AIM by targeting him?

Did that mean that Aldrich Killian was alive and well? Or had someone else taken over the organization after his death like they had suspected?

Tony frowned, skimming through the files again even though he didn’t need to physically search them; he had memorized them already, but he didn’t want to give up the soothing feeling that came with seeing the words in front of him. He paused, his finger hovering over the AIM logo. It made sense for AIM to be hunting Steve, now that he thought about it. They had been the ones building Extremis Enhanciles under Maya Hansen’s instructions, and practically everyone wanted their own pet Super Soldiers these days. Steve’s blood would be the easy way to get what they wanted – assuming they could crack Erskine’s formula. It wasn’t hard to see how much money that would get them.

“Have you read everything now?” Coulson asked, gathering their plates together. He frowned at Tony’s plate and bumped it into Tony’s forearm to get his attention. “You haven’t touched your food. Finish eating,”

“I think you mean _start_ ,” Clint drawled, plucking the tablet from Tony’s hands. Tony glared at him, before picking up the sandwich, taking large, exaggerated, bites out of it before he could be pestered about it again.

“What?” Tony asked, barely resisting the urge to give the agent a view of his mouthful of half-chewed food. “You don’t like _see-food_?”

“That’s disgusting,” Coulson grumbled as he picked up Bucky’s robotic arm. He took it back to the fridge and stuffed it into the crisper, burying it under a bag of carrots. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Steve,”

“Steve doesn’t like see-food either,” Clint said, stealing a chunk of ham still lying on Tony’s plate. He ate it before Tony could swipe it back. “I’m pretty sure he learned that one from _me_ ,”

“Why am I not surprised?” Coulson sighed. He pulled a jug of fruit juice out of the fridge and shut the door, carrying the bottle over to the kitchen table. He plucked a mug from the drying rack and filled it to the brim with juice, handing it to Tony, his expression making it clear that there was no getting out of it. “Drink this,”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, _mother_ ,”

Coulson smiled thinly. “I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole,”

“Spoilsport,” Tony muttered, taking a sip of his juice.

Coulson hovered beside the table, looking the kitchen over; he picked up an errant fork and put it in the sink, stashing everything sharp out of sight. Tony knew it was a crapshoot at best. A guy like the Winter Soldier could kill someone with his bare hands; just because he didn’t have access to the _butter knives_ didn’t make him _safe_.

Tony watched idly as Coulson fretted over the placemats and chairs, trying to finish his sandwich without swallowing the rest of it down whole like a snake devouring a rabbit. He picked up his mug, swishing the juice around as if it was fine wine instead of organic carrot and strawberry juice.

Did he really want to be here when the Winter Soldier came out to eat?

Did he want to be around _Bucky Barnes_?

No.

He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to have to lay eyes on the _bastard_ again, but he knew he couldn’t slip away this time. He had to see what had happened for himself; he needed to see what the Winter Soldier – what _Bucky Barnes_ was really like.

He dragged his chair across the room until he found himself a good spot at the very back of the kitchen near the wall, and sat down, watching the kitchen table from his corner of the room. He didn’t feel safe here but that didn’t really mean all that much; he didn’t feel safe _anywhere_ these days.

Coulson finished his sweep of the room with a sigh; he walked over to Tony, choosing to stand between Tony and the kitchen table. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Tony?”

Tony shrugged. “If we wait for me to be ready, he’ll starve to death,”

Coulson nodded curtly. “Alright.” He turned to Clint, pursing his lips in displeasure. “We’re good to go over here,”

“Roger that,” Clint said. He took Tony’s tablet into the living room and set it down on one of the couch cushions where it couldn’t be seen. “You can bring him out now, Nat,” he called out. He surveyed the kitchen from his post, his hand resting near his belt. Tony knew a gun was resting there, waiting to be used if necessary.

Tony stiffened as Bucky Barnes was marched into the room; it was hard to take his eyes off of their _guest_. Bucky’s gait made it clear that he had been dragged unceremoniously from his makeshift prison. He was limping slightly, and while he was still tall and imposing, his lack of an arm made him seem less threatening. Bucky looked around haltingly, his movements lethargic and loose. His good arm hung at his side as he walked, swinging with each step he took. He stumbled when he got to the chair Coulson had left out for him and sat down in it without prompting, rubbing at his shoulder where his mechanical arm would have been if it had still been connected to him.

“So are you guys going to kill me this time, or what?” Bucky drawled. His voice was hoarse from lack of use and a little slurred from the cocktail of drugs Natasha had given him. He turned in the chair, noting where each of them was standing and squinted at Tony, seeming surprised to see him. “What the fuck do _you_ want?”

Tony tensed, but didn’t react otherwise; he didn’t want to give the Winter Soldier, if he was still in there, the satisfaction of seeing him react. He took another sip of his juice to steady himself, wishing it was something stronger, like whiskey.

Natasha set a plate with an egg salad sandwich on it in front of Bucky. “Eat and don’t ask stupid questions,”

Bucky didn’t have to be told twice. He picked the sandwich up and wrestled with it, eager for food. It was hard to eat one handed, it seemed, but he did the best he could even when the sandwich didn’t want to cooperate. The bread slid apart; the egg salad filling spilled out at the sides of the bread, dropping onto the plate with a sad plop. Bucky ignored the mess for a moment and wolfed down what was left in the bread as though he expected the food to be yanked out of his hand. Once he was done he turned to the crumbs and blobs of egg salad that had slipped free; he licked his fingers and used them to scoop up every last morsel.

Tony sighed softly. He had expected to see something like this, but seeing it was still a shock. Russian winters were cold, sure, but this was ingrained behavior, learned from long days spent hungry. This had to be the real Bucky Barnes. No one else ate like that – no one, except for Steve Rogers.

Bucky’s eyes darted from his meal to Tony. He cleared his throat, his hand still hovering over the now spotless plate. “You got a problem, buddy?”

Tony snorted and took another sip of his juice.

Bucky narrowed his eyes and pushed the plate away. “So when does the dog and pony show start, huh?” He turned in his chair, resting his hand on the table beside the plate; Natasha took it away before he could so much as wiggle a finger at it. He scowled at her. “You know I used to think you were a nice dame,” he said, staring at her as she set the plate in the sink.

Natasha scowled at him. “You don’t know me,” she said, resting her hand on her hip.

“I did,” Bucky grunted. He swiped his thumb over his lower lip, licking at it. “I guess you’ve changed too, huh?”

“So it would seem,” Natasha drawled. She nodded towards Tony, her gaze never leaving Bucky’s face. “He’s my friend – we’re all friends here,”

“Yeah,” Bucky muttered, glowering at Natasha. “I kind of figured.”

“You tried to kill them,” Natasha said softly, slinking closer. She reached out and grabbed Bucky by the ear, tugging so roughly he nearly fell out of his seat. “You do it again and I’m going to cut your balls off and feed them to you, understand?”

“Understood,” Bucky snapped, ducking down to get out of her grasp.

Natasha stepped back, frowning at him. “The lab says that you’re who you say you are,” she said, eyeing him curiously. “Do you remember the Captain?”

Bucky’s jerked upright in his chair. “Of course I do! What did you do with him?” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “If you hurt him –”

“He’s fine,” Tony said, draining the last of his juice. He kept the cup in his hands so he had something to hold as Bucky turned his attention to him; the look was far too intense for Tony’s liking. “He’s our friend, remember? _We’re_ the ones looking out for him,”

Bucky shifted in his chair, glancing around the room again. “So he’s alright?”

Tony nodded. “He’s got the flu, but he’s alright,”

Bucky locked eyes with Tony; there was a hint of fear in his gaze now, lurking there behind his anger. “He’s a _kid_ ,”

“ _No shit_ ,” Tony growled, clutching his cup tighter.

“Then he’s _not_ going to be alright,” Bucky said, bolting upright. He took a step towards the living room and grunted when Natasha shoved him back into his chair, her fingers digging dangerously into the sides of his neck. He struggled against her, but couldn’t break free one-armed – not with his lower body still pressed tightly against the chair. He turned back to Tony, his gaze turning murderous. “He nearly _died_ when he was five – he caught a goddamned _cold_ and he nearly died and you’re telling me he’s going to be ok? Fuck you!”

“Calm down. He’s over the worst of it,” Coulson said, stepping closer to Tony, his hand settling on the grip of his Taser. “We were with Steve the entire time he was sick, Mr. Barnes, and I can assure you he’s going to be fine. Steve Rogers is someone we deeply care for. We’re not going to let something happen to him,”

Bucky gnashed his teeth. “If he was so cared for, why isn’t he out here? He’s fine right? So why can’t I see him? He’s my _friend_ ,”

“And you’re the piece of _shit_ who tried to kidnap him for a bunch of scientists who want to drain his blood and build themselves a Super Soldier,” Tony said, jumping up. He glared at Bucky, unable to hold in his rage. “You’re acting like _we’re_ the psychopaths here, but you don’t see us _drowning people with our bare hands_ –” Tony said, his voice going shrill. He was shaking by the time Coulson turned around and eased him back onto his chair. It felt good getting the words out, and yet the heavy knot in his gut hadn’t loosened even a little bit. He lowered his gaze, biting down on his lower lip as memories of water crashing over his head came flooding back. It wasn’t as bad as before, but he could still taste salt on his lips with each new wave. He forced down a gag and made himself breath.

Bucky snorted. “You think I don’t _know_ that?”

Tony lifted his head slowly. It was hard to keep his breath from coming out in gasps, but he managed it somehow. “We all know what you _did_ ,”

Bucky rested forehead in his hand. “Look – I get it. _You_ think I don’t care about what I was going to do,” he growled. “But I do. I almost _killed_ Steve,”

“So you just don’t care about the rest of it, huh?” Tony chuckled darkly, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s _great_ ,”

Bucky glared at Tony. “You bastards had me locked up in a fucking _closet_. What do you want me to do? _Beg_?” He sneered at Tony. “You’re not in charge here, _pal_. Even I can tell that much. I recognize your face from the papers, though. You’re Tony Stark – billionaire stud out to take over the world on the backs of everyone else.”

“Yeah?” Tony growled. “Is _that_ who I am?”

“Steve _hates_ guys like you,” Bucky snarled.

The words felt like a slap in the face; maybe it was because it wasn’t a lie. If anyone would know Steve Roger’s mind, it would be the guy who had grown up with him.

“What’s wrong, _rich boy_? You got a problem?” Bucky sneered.

It was fine, Tony thought wearily. He could take it– he knew he could. It wasn’t like he had been given shit for being rich before. “You’re right,” he said with a shrug. “He doesn’t like me.” He could admit it now. Maybe it was better to hear it said out loud. Now it would be just another loss he would learn to get over. When the time came, and Steve was himself again, Tony knew what he would do. He would make sure they could work together and function as part of a team – that was only fair – but he would back off.

They would never be friends.

That would be just fine with him.

Once this was over, Steve would go back to his _real_ friends – to them and the bastard sitting there at the kitchen table – and it would be fine; he would deal with it.

Tony stood up and made his way along the wall; he didn’t look back. He was aware that all eyes were on him, but he didn’t stop moving, afraid that if he did he might not be able to get going again.

He paused in front of Steve’s door.

He had promised the kid he would come back after the debriefing, but he wasn’t sure he could deal with the honest smile Steve would give him; he needed time to think.

It would be better if he didn’t go in.

He walked away, heading back to his room. He cast a mournful glance at the kitchen when he reached the safety of his bedroom door. Natasha was glaring at Bucky; she had his ear pinched tightly between her fingers.

Bucky yelped.

Tony couldn’t even bring himself to smile.

 

 

The next morning came quickly, bringing with it a calm Tony wasn’t so sure he could trust. The nightmares hadn’t come the previous night, and what had slipped into his dreams had been soft and blue; it had been all encompassing, like someone had tucked a comforter around him in his sleep. He wondered briefly if he could get away with simply staying in bed forever waiting for that dream to come back. He heaved himself upright with a sigh, rubbing at his sleep-sticky eyes; he was sore all over, and it wasn’t going to get any better if he kept lying around.

He had spent the entire night locked away in his room, and he didn’t feel like spending any more time here even if it _was_ comfortable; still, he wasn’t in a rush to leave. He got dressed lethargically, pulling on a pair of sweat pants and a clean baggy t-shirt, and headed for the door, ready to start the day. He might not have read to Steve last night like he had promised, but he wasn’t going to keep disappointing the kid. It was probably inevitable that he would disappoint Adult Steve one way or another, but that wouldn’t be for a while; at least right now he could make it up to the little guy. There were plenty of books left to read, after all, and it wasn’t like he had anything to do today anyway.

He stepped into the living room and stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes drawn to the kitchen table; it felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs when he realized just what he was seeing. There, sitting beside Steve, casually eating pancakes, was Bucky Barnes. The Ex-Winter Soldier didn’t have his mechanical arm back, thankfully, but that didn’t seem to be bothering him. And why would it, when Steve was feeding him pancakes off of his own fork?

Tony’s hands clenched into fists. He gritted his teeth and schooled his expression. He hadn’t been noticed yet. Maybe he could just slip away and go back to bed.

“Hey, Tony,” Clint said, waving a fork in Tony’s direction. “Phil made pancakes,”

Tony forced a pleasant smile onto his face.

Damn Clint and his stupid perfect vision.

Tony shuffled towards the kitchen table, avoiding direct line of sight with the living room window. “Morning,” he said, not looking at Steve or Bucky. He sat down in the empty chair beside Clint, and leaned back, feigning a yawn. “I take it Natasha’s on duty?”

“She’s still watching the cameras,” Coulson said, setting a plate of pancakes down in front of Tony. He slid the syrup and margarine across the table closer to Tony’s plate, turning back to a second frying pan where he had eggs cooking. “Eat up,”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony said, picking up his fork. He was tempted to pick up his plate and head into the living room so he could eat off the coffee table, but of course, Clint noticed, so that plan went out the window before it really even formed.

“Steve’s feeling better today,” Clint said, elbowing Tony in the side as though he wasn’t paying attention. “He didn’t throw up _once_ ,”

Tony grunted and stuffed a forkful of pancakes in his mouth. He chewed quickly. If there were no pancakes keeping him at the table, then he could leave without looking like a _complete_ asshole. He swallowed down the mouthful and went in for the next, praying that Clint would go back to eating in silence.

Sadly, Clint was in a chatty mood.

“Bucky’s going to help out around the place,” Clint said, cutting his pancakes into perfect diamonds. “He’s going to do the babysitting for us,”

Tony pressed down too hard and clinked his fork against the plate. “Great,” he said, lifting his fork up, surprised that he hadn’t broken the damn plate in half. He stabbed at another piece of pancake, imagining that it was Bucky Barnes’ face. “I’m sure he’ll have fun,”

Clint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re not sidelining you – you know that, right?”

“I didn’t say you were,” Tony said, flashing Clint another smile. “I’m sure the kid will enjoy the change,”

“What change?” Steve said, handing Bucky back his fork. He looked from Bucky to Tony, clearly confused.

“It’s nothing, kiddo,” Tony said, popping another piece of pancake into his mouth. It wouldn’t take too much longer to clear his plate at this rate. “How was your night, Steve?”

Steve shrugged. “It was ok. Bucky read me some stuff from the Wind in the Willows,”

Tony’s lower lip twitched at the side. “Oh?” Great, he thought. The motherfucker was reading to the kid now too. Could this day get any better?

“Yeah,” Steve said, turning back to Bucky. The look on his face could only be described as admiration. He beamed up at Bucky, wiggling closer to him even though it put him dangerously close to the edge of the seat. “He’s _old_ now,”

Tony chuckled darkly. He pushed his plate away and dusted off his hands. “Well, I’m done,” he said. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Coulson set a cup of coffee in front of him. “Jesus – don’t _do_ that!”

Coulson slipped an egg onto Tony’s plate, looking distinctly unimpressed. “Breakfast isn’t done yet,”

Tony scowled at the egg. “I didn’t say I was _that_ hungry,”

“But you are,” Coulson said, putting another egg onto Tony’s plate.

Tony took a sip of coffee to cover his irritation. It was the good stuff from his stash. Coulson had even used cream and sugar. He wanted to cry.

“You’re welcome,” Coulson said, turning back to the stove. “I expect the eggs to be gone by the time I turn around again,”

Bucky picked up his fork and prodded the hunk of pancake left on his plate. “You guys aren’t what I was expecting,” he said, turning to face Steve.

“Good,” Tony said, chugging his coffee. He set the cup down a bit harder than necessary and attacked his eggs, smearing yolk all over the plate as he sliced them up. He shoveled them into his mouth, cursing the fact that they tasted fantastic.

“So what’s happening today?” Bucky asked, feeding Steve a chunk of pancake. He looked over his shoulder at Coulson. “I’m assuming you’re going to tell me at some point, right?”

“Assume away,” Tony said, finishing his last bite of egg. He ferried his cup and plate over to the sink, setting them in a neat stack beside the rest of the dirty breakfast dishes and slunk off, heading towards his room. “Thanks for breakfast, Phil,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Hey,” Clint called after him, “Aren’t you going to stick around?”

“ _Nope_ ,” Tony said as he stepped into his room. He closed the door behind him, sighing to himself. _Well, so much for it being a great day_. _Why_ had he woken up again? He had been cheated out of his good mood. It was like Bucky had _known_ what he had been planning in advance.

Tony crawled onto his bed and pulled his tablet off of the dresser, balancing it precariously on his knee. He had known that Bucky wasn’t going to stay in the closet _forever_ , but he hadn’t expected the guy to be freed this fast. He was pretty sure Natasha had been responsible for that little surprise; maybe that was why she had been mysteriously absent. He knew how much she loved Coulson’s pancakes.

He flipped through the camera feeds, and found Natasha with ease. She was sitting on the roof, just below one of cameras, using her holographic watch to blend herself in with the shingles; she had a pair of binoculars and a thermos with her, all of it sitting within arm’s reach. He glared at the feeds, noting her position as she changed the angles of some of the cameras so that they covered more ground. At least she was doing something useful. He supposed he could forgive her.

Tony put his head in his hands.

A rap on Tony’s bedroom door made him knock the tablet with his elbow by accident; he caught it before it tumbled onto the bed beside him, holding it flush against his leg. “Come in,” he said, hoping it was Steve.

It wasn’t Steve.

Well – it _was_ Steve, but the kid was _accompanied_ by Bucky so it wasn’t exactly the same. The expression on Bucky’s face was, at least, satisfying to say the least; the guy looked a little bit like he had just had all of the hair on his balls plucked off with a rusty pair of tweezers. Bucky leaned against the door frame and coughed into his hand, trying to _casually_ draw Tony’s attention. It was a pathetic attempt, but at least he hadn’t done anything worse.

“What’s up?” Tony said, ignoring the spike of fear Bucky’s presence had brought with it. He looked towards his pillow for a split second, glad that he had thought ahead enough to plant weaponry nearby; the stun gun he had stashed under his pillow made him feel calmer, all things considered. He was pretty sure he was going to distinctly _enjoy_ using it on Bucky if the bastard ever stepped out of line.

Bucky cleared his throat and glanced down at Steve; the kid crossed his arms over his chest and gave Bucky a grumpy look.

Bucky sighed and turned to face Tony. “I’m supposed to… _apologize_ ,”

Tony frowned. “ _What_?” He hadn’t been expecting anything like _this_. A rude comment yes – an apology, no.

“I almost drowned you,” Bucky said, turning to shoot a grumpy look at Steve. “Steve says I should say I’m sorry,”

Steve smiled brightly, his arms dropping to his sides, and nodded.

Tony stared unblinking at Bucky. “You’re… _sorry_?” The tablet slid down Tony’s leg; he ignored it in favor of analysing the words he had heard. “You’re sorry…” He gave his head a shake and slowed the tablet’s descent, setting it down on the sheets beside him. “I don’t get it.”

Bucky scowled, putting his hand on his hip. “Look. I tried to kill you. I owe you an apology,”

“An apology,” Tony repeated, dully, looking from Steve to Bucky. The kid seemed happy with what had just happened; he certainly looked more chipper than he had before.

“ _Yes_ ,” Bucky grumbled, narrowing his eyes. “This is _me_ ,” he said, pointing at Tony, “ _apologizing_ to you. So I’ve done it. I’ve apologized,”

“You’re _apologizing_ ,” Tony repeated.

Was he hearing things right? He had to be, because Bucky was still standing there, staring at him, waiting impatiently for a response. Tony snickered and looked down at his tablet, scooping it back up. “Alright,” he said, unsure of what else to say.

Bucky frowned. “Alright?”

“Yeah. Alright,” Tony said. It most definitely _wasn’t_ alright, but there wasn’t much else he was willing to say with Steve still in the room; he had _some_ dignity left, and he wasn’t going to waste the last of it by snapping in front of Steve like some kind of rabid animal. He reigned in his emotions, controlling the hurt bubbling within him, and _smiled_ at Bucky, trying to look at pleasant as possible. “Are we done?”

Bucky stared at Tony, frowning. “Yeah, I guess we are,”

“Well, ok then,” Tony said, glancing down at his tablet. He prayed his smile would hold; he could feel it cracking at the corners. It wouldn’t be long now – not long at all. “You two have fun,” he said, taking in a sharp breath through his nose. He could do this. All he had to do was keep it together.

Steve snagged Bucky by the arm, tugging on it. “Come on,” he said, turning them both around in a smooth circle, “We can go colour!”

Tony got up slowly, creeping to the door. He watched as Steve dragged Bucky off into the living room, where his colouring books and crayons lay spread out on the table, waiting for attention.

Great.

So much for making it up to Steve. Apparently he didn’t need to do anything at all. The kid was happier without him. He peered around the door frame, and then pulled his head back inside his room before Clint could catch his eye. He felt like he was in boarding school all over again; he half expected his dorm advisor to walk by at any minute. He closed the door with a soft click, and sat down beside his tablet, going back to spying through the cameras. He pulled up the feeds for the living room and sighed, watching as Steve and Bucky started working on a picture of the Hulk crushing a tank.

They looked so happy together.

It wasn’t _fair_.

Tony turned the feeds off as Bucky picked up a red crayon and leaned back against his pillows, closing his eyes. He could hear Howard’s voice in the back of his head, just like when he had been a child. _Stark men don’t cry!_

He wondered if that was really true, or just another lie.

 

 

 

“I think I want to spend some time alone,” Tony said.

Clint looked up from his tablet, a noodle hanging from his mouth; his late night snack would have been more appetizing if it hadn’t smelled like feet. “What?”

It was midnight now; the rest of the house was quiet aside from the soft snores coming from Steve’s room. Everyone was in place, following orders. Bucky and Steve were bunked together, with Coulson sitting beside them keeping watch. Natasha was keeping an eye on everything from her tablet, but she was nowhere to be seen. Tony was pretty sure she was up on the roof again. Maybe she was hunting a snack of her own up amidst the shingles.

“Your house is set up security-wise, right?” Tony asked, sitting down at the table. He set his tablet down on the tabletop beside Clint’s and tried not to flinch every time the archer slurped up a new noodle. “The cameras are up and running?”

“Yeah,” Clint said, setting his bowl down. He wiped his hand on the back of his mouth. “We fixed it up two nights ago. It’s good to go,”

“Alright. I guess I’ll head over there then,” Tony said, moving to pick up his tablet. He wasn’t sure why he had put it down in the first place. Oh wait – that was probably because his hands were shaking. He had almost forgotten that part.

“Are you alright?” Clint pushed his bowl away and pushed Tony’s hand away from the tablet. “Look – I get that Bucky’s not the nicest guy, but you can’t let him get to you,”

“I know that,” Tony growled. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand. “I just don’t think I’m useful here,” he said, glancing down at his tablet where the feed from Steve’s bedroom was still playing. “It would be better for all of us if you guys only had two people to look after. With me in the mix, you’ve got too many things to worry about. It’s distracting, and we need to be focused on Steve – not me,”

“Tony,”

“No, hear me out, ok?” Tony sighed. “I can’t think here. I’ve been trying, you know? I keep pulling out that fucking notebook and writing things down, but I can’t concentrate. I need quiet – I need time to think by myself without constantly worrying that I’m going to run face first into _him_ when I try to go to the fucking bathroom,”

“Ok, I think I see what you’re getting at,” Clint grunted. “You know, we could always just put him back in the _closet_ ,”

Tony snorted. He smiled at Clint; sometimes the guy really was great. “I don’t think Steve would appreciate that,”

Clint shrugged. “Not _my_ problem,”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Ok, well let’s just say _Phil_ wouldn’t appreciate it,”

“Fair enough,” Clint muttered. He stretched out in his chair, idly spinning his empty soup bowl in circles with his finger. “I’m assuming you need an escort,”

Tony glared down at his tablet, refusing to look up.

“Relax,” Clint said, spinning the bowl a little faster. “I’m not judging you. I’m just asking if you need someone to walk you over to the place,”

“I’d appreciate it,” Tony muttered, still looking at the tablet.

“I’m assuming that mean you want to go _now_ , huh?” Clint scooped his bowl up and rose, dumping it beside the sink. “I guess I’ve got some free time,”

“Thanks,” Tony said, standing up. He put his tablet to sleep and tucked it under his arm, hoping that Clint couldn’t see how badly his arms were shaking. “Give me a second and I’ll go get my bag,”

Clint rubbed at his face, wiping up a piece of dried out green onion. “Just make it snappy, alright? Natasha’s due for a break, and I don’t want to lose a nut if I’m not back by the time she’s ready,”

Tony opened his door, mindful of the way the floorboards creaked. He found his bag sitting where he had left it on his bed and relaxed as little as he stuffed his tablet inside; he wasn’t so sure he would be able to hold onto it without breaking it while out on the beach. He glanced around the room, checking for the fiftieth time to make sure he hadn’t left anything important behind. It was alright. Everything was packed up. He hadn’t missed a thing.

“You coming?” Clint grumbled, strutting into Tony’s room. He eyed Tony’s bag. “You’re taking _everything_?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, trying to be casual. “I didn’t bring all that much, and I’ll need it when I’m over there. I don’t want to make extra trips,”

“Steve’s going to freak out,”

Tony zipped his bag up. “I’m not going to be that far away. Besides, Bucky’s here keeping him company. He probably won’t even realize I’m gone,” he said, shouldering his bag. “Let’s get this over with,”

“I told Phil already. We can go whenever,” Clint said. He picked up his keys and led them to the front door, casually glancing back over his shoulder every few feet to make sure Tony was still following him. He paused in the doorway, giving Tony a funny look – one Tony couldn’t quite place. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Tony wanted to say no. He had been dreading this moment all day; it had taken everything in him to walk out into the living room to even _ask_ Clint to help him leave. He had packed his bag over and over again in order to keep himself calm; nothing he had done had helped, but he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. It would be better to cut the cord now, before he got any more attached than he already was; it was better to do it before anyone got hurt. He clutched at the handles of his bag, aware that it wasn’t just his hands shaking now. “I’m ready,” he said.

Clint opened the door.

They walked outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know if there is anything weird in here and I'll get it fixed! 
> 
>  
> 
> The next chapter might be later than usual again because of Christmas break. I'll have to see what happens : ) I apologize for the cliff hanger - this was the best spot to break at considering what's going to happen in the next chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann's Beach House was the perfect holiday destination - assuming of course you could get past the horrible wallpaper and the fact that there was really nothing in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings here for violence and angst! I don't want to spoil anything, and most of what happens has been tagged already so everyone should be warned : )

Tony put his bag up on his shoulder; he couldn’t avoid the first glimpse of water as he made his way down the steps, but it wasn’t as shocking as it had been days before. The bag was wide enough to keep him from seeing more of it as he turned and followed Clint across the sand. Hermann’s Beach House, as they had come to call it, wasn’t that far away, but it felt like he was trekking across the arctic just to get to the front step. Tony kept his gaze on Clint’s back as he walked, forcing each foot to move through the sand, keeping his thoughts on the wrinkle on the collar of Clint’s shirt. The sound of the water lapping against the shore made him cringe each time he noticed it. He wanted to slap his hands over his ears to block it out, but there was no way to do that unless he wanted to drop his bag, and there was no way in hell he was going to do _that_.

Something grabbed his foot; Tony stumbled, stopping in mid-step. Pain tore through his ankle as something sharp tore through his socks. This was it, he thought, as sweat trickled down the side of his face. _This_ was it. He was going to die here and it was going to be in the goddamned _sand_ –

He looked down, expecting to see a bear trap or something else with teeth. To be fair, what he saw did indeed have teeth, although they were far less likely to strip the meat from his bones. Mabel looked up at him, her eyes wide and glowing in the dark. She meowed and tugged on his pant leg twice with her paw before plunking herself down on his shoe; her purrs were so loud, they drowned out the crashing waves behind her. Tony let out a hissed breath through his teeth. “ _Jesus Christ,_ cat,” he said, wiping the beads of sweat off of his lower lip. “You couldn’t wait until morning to do that?”

“Tony?” Clint called out from further along the beach. The jackass had made it halfway to Hermann’s Beach House already; he hadn’t even slowed down to see what was taking Tony so long.

“It’s ok,” Tony yelled back, his voice hoarse. “It’s just the cat,”

Clint made good time as he stalked back across the sand; it didn’t seem to bother _him_ at all. He kneeled in front of Tony and gave Mabel’s neck fur a scratch. “I was wondering where she was,”

“She was missing?”

“She was around, but she wasn’t wandering as much as usual. The little lady doesn’t like strangers,” Clint said, trying to ease the cat back onto the sand. Mabel stared up at him with bland indifference and primly stepped off of Tony’s shoe in order to give Clint’s hand a swat. He poked her in the flank and grinned, flashing teeth, when she took a swipe at him, her claws out this time. He stuck his tongue out at her; she hissed at him. “She’s very particular about who she lets in the house. She attacks Bucky every time he walks near her,” Clint said with a chuckle.

Tony couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Oh yeah?”

Clint stretched out and stood up. “Yeah. She’s got a bit of a temper.” He took Tony by the wrist and started leading him across the sand towards Hermann’s Beach House. He stopped and looked over his shoulder when he noticed that Mabel wasn’t following them. “Are you coming? Or _what_?” he asked, in exasperation.

Mabel sneezed at him and slunk her way across the sand, her tail swishing behind her as she hurried to catch up.

Clint waited for her to get closer and then started walking again. “I guess I’m not your only honor guard tonight,” he hummed to himself, stepping over a cracked and twisted piece of driftwood.

Mabel crouched down, her behind wiggling. Tony would have warned him, but by the time he opened his mouth, the cat had already launched herself through the air and attached herself to Clint’s leg. Clint howled, neatly tipping over when his cat-free foot sunk into a soupy patch of sand; he caught himself on Tony’s shoulder and took a moment to regain his balance before continuing on as if nothing had happened. “So yeah,” Clint said, gingerly lifting his leg higher up off the ground so he wouldn’t step on Mabel’s fluffy tail as he walked, “Phil started feeding her outside on the porch because she was biting people’s legs,”

“I’m not surprised,” Tony grumbled, avoiding a mixed blob of sand and broken shells. “She didn’t attack Steve, did she?”

“No,” Clint grunted. “Of course not. The cat loves him. Get the door, will you?”

Tony was startled to see that they were already at Hermann’s Beach House; it hadn’t taken as long as he had expected to traverse the sand. He straightened up, smirking to himself. That hadn’t been so hard. He had barely noticed the water! Damn, he was good! He took a moment to grin as he looked around and then turned back to the Beach House before his stomach could try and leap out of his mouth at the sight of open water.

The lights were already on in the Beach House’s living room; they cast a dull yellow glow on the front steps, so it wasn’t hard to spot the lock, even in the dark. It would almost have been a pleasant sight, if Tony hadn’t known that there was no one waiting inside for him.

“As you can see,” Clint said with a grunt, “we’ve got the lights running on timers right now.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Tony said, starting up the steps.

“Alright, Mr. Smarty Pants. Laugh it up.”

“Oh, I will,”

“Asshole,”

“I’m assuming the place is fully stocked?” Tony sighed, patting his pockets for the keys. Keys, keys – where were the keys?

“There’s some food in the cupboards,” Clint grumbled, fishing his keys out of his pocket. He handed them off to Tony. “Do me a favor and open her up,” he said. He gave his foot a gentle shake, trying to get Mabel to let go of him. “Do you _mind_ , cat?”

A glob of slimy sand flew off of Clint’s boot, hitting Tony in the leg. “Oops,”

Tony took in a breath in through his nose, letting it out slowly as he stuck the key in the lock. It was fine. He would be inside in a few seconds; there was nothing to worry about. No one was going to jump out at him. He had Jarvis and Natasha watching his back through the cameras. He would be fine. The key slid into the lock with ease; he relaxed as he turned it, willing himself to stay calm. Behind him, something heavy hit the porch with a crash.

Tony yanked at the door handle and let himself in, throwing himself over the threshold and away from the sand. Whirling, he hurled his bag into the hall and held his hand out palm first, squinting to see through the darkness at the bottom step.

Clint scowled up at him. He had slipped on the first step and landed on his knees, but he didn’t look hurt.

Tony’s heart hammered in his chest; he let out a shaky breath and lowered his arm, wishing for the thousandth time that he had brought the suit along. He missed the days when he had easy access to a repulsor, although in his case it was probably better that he hadn’t had one. Clint probably liked being scorch-free.

Clint sighed and picked himself up, dusting off his bruised knees. “I’m fine – I slipped on the cat. Thanks for _asking_ ,” he muttered. He gave his foot another gentle shake, and hung his head in defeat when Mabel didn’t budge an inch. He attached himself to the railing and heaved his foot and the cat up onto the first step. “Fucking cat,”

Tony sagged against the wall beside his bag. He was safe – it was fine. He looked around, taking in the living room as his heart continued trying to claw its way out of his chest with each frenzied beat. The place wasn’t a complete disaster, but the decorator still should have been taken outside and shot. He had never enjoyed wallpaper; it had been the one thing he and his mother had had in common growing up. Maria Stark would have fainted dead away if she had been around to see this place. Clearly _someone_ had liked wallpaper a little too much. It was _everywhere_. Tony hadn’t thought he would ever see swans wearing rubber boots, but he could now say he had seen more than his fair share of them. They seemed to have taken over, like moss spreading across a shady rock. There were even matching ceramic swans sitting on the bookshelf by the ancient television. He half expected to find a massive swan sitting on the coffee table, but to his surprise the decorator had settled for a nice bowl of dusty hard candy instead.

Tony glanced around the living room, cataloguing exits and entrances as he dragged himself away from the front door. The walls weren’t _just_ covered in swans; there was a plethora of other wildlife to be seen. There were roosters holding tea kettles in the kitchen and _that_ wasn’t even the worst of it. When he poked his head into the bathroom he found that it was papered with dragonflies carrying daisies.

“So, again, before I was so _rudely_ interrupted by my kneecaps exploding, the place is set up, but it doesn’t have everything,” Clint said, shutting the door behind him. “I brought in a box of groceries yesterday when I thought it was going to be me stashed away here, but I was going to get more later on so it’s not much.” He grimaced when Mabel detached from his leg and did figure eights around Tony’s feet. “I didn’t bring any cat food, either, so I’m going to have to come back here tomorrow – oh. Also, you have no coffee,”

“It’s not a big deal,” Tony said, nimbly stepping around Mabel. He carried his bag into the living room and set it down on the plastic wrapped sea-foam green couch. The curtains were still mostly open, so he crept closer, trying not to be too obvious about what he was going to do. He pulled the curtains shut, blocking out the world outside and stood back on his heels.

Clint gestured to the one and only bedroom, running his tongue over his teeth. “And just so you know, the sheets are clean,”

“Is there a reason why they _wouldn’t_ be?” Tony asked, curious.

Clint shrugged. “I don’t know. Natasha said you had thing about dust,”

Tony snorted. “Yeah. _Dust_. Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Clint shrugged. “Well, whatever. This place has a whole four rooms. I don’t think you’re going to end up overwhelmed by the housework,”

“Agreed,” Tony said, peeling the plastic off of the couch. He threw the crinkled ball behind the television and plopping himself down on the couch, trying to ignore the way Clint was glaring at him. “I’ll pay for the fucking couch if it’s that big of a deal,” he said as he pulled his tablet out of his bag and turned it on, bringing up the security feeds; he had been itching to get a look at them ever since he had stepped onto the beach. The mere idea of the cameras being unwatched made his skin crawl, and even though he knew Natasha was studying them, he still didn’t feel completely safe. One quick look was all he needed to get his gut unclenched; the new feeds in Hermann’s Beach House were working perfectly and he could see through all of the cameras they had planted on the expanded perimeter. The new feeds were immaculate, clear enough to reveal the stars in the sky, but it was the older feeds that interested him the most. He pulled up the camera in Steve’s bedroom, and left it streaming as he watched Clint poke around the living room with Mabel stalking his toes. “Is there a reason why you’re circling the coffee table like you want to eat it?” he asked.

“Natasha asked me to walk around so she could check the camera alignment,” Clint said, rolling his eyes. “They’re in here too, remember?”

“I just checked them. They’re fine,” Tony said, pulling up the camera directory. Whoever had installed the new cameras had followed his naming convention; he curled his toes in satisfaction. It was probably a good thing no one could see how happy that made him. He pulled up the feeds for Hermann’s Beach House’s living room and watched lazily as Natasha tweaked the positioning, sometimes only a little, sometimes a lot, jumping between cameras until she had everything the way she wanted it. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t double checking her work. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her eye – it was more that he wanted to make sure there were no bugs in the system. He wasn’t going to be caught unaware – not this time.

“So,” Clint said, hovering beside the coffee table. He tugged a piece of dusty candy from the bowl, popping it into his mouth and spat it out into his hand after a moment of contemplation, grimacing at the taste. “Did you want me to stick around for a bit? Or are you alright if I leave?”

“You can go,” Tony said, trying to get out of the way as Mabel launched herself up onto his lap from the floor. He shifted to make room for her, but as usual she wasn’t willing to wait, so he ended up with her furry butt in his face. “I think we’ve got this covered,”

Clint chuckled. “Well, have fun with your friend,” he said, heading for the door. He paused when he reached it and strode into the kitchen, dumping the candy into the garbage can under the sink. He rinsed his hand and pulled his keys out of his pocket, giving them a slight jingle as though Tony hadn’t been watching him the entire time. “I’ll lock up,”

“Thanks,” Tony said from behind the cat.

Clint saluted him and pulled the door open, stepping out onto the porch. “I’ll bring your coffee and cat food over tomorrow morning,”

“Sounds like a tasty combination,” Tony said. He maneuvered his tablet around Mabel’s tail, trying to get it away from her before she could sit on it and close all the applications. She turned around in his lap and sat down, pinning his wrists to his thighs. He scowled down at her. “You’re just doing this because you know I won’t shove you off,” he said to her, leaning over her to get a better look at his tablet.

Clint laughed as he shut the door.

 

 

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice boomed out of the tablet’s speakers. The sudden sound sent Tony scrambling sideways across the couch cushions with his hands held out palm first in front of him. Herman’s Beach House was too quiet, he thought with a weary sigh, slumping against the couch. Mabel hadn’t moved from her spot on his chest even though he had nearly flung himself and her off the couch; he could feel the prickly sting from the lovely new set of puncture wounds she had given him. She had been forced to dig her claws into his chest so that she didn’t haphazardly fly off of him and across the room. He was getting tired of the constant terror; this was the third time he had panicked at sudden sound in less than an hour, and it was draining the last of his patience. The cat had grown used to it; he hadn’t. He was starting to think he needed to think more like her and less like him. Maybe then he would be able to sleep again without jerking awake every ten seconds, worrying that someone was there, in the room with him. Tony rubbed his hand over his eyes. It was three in the morning. He had spent the better part of two hours staring at Mabel’s white and brown back feet because he hadn’t been able to think of anything better to do and it had gotten a little…. boring. He tried to move so that he could sneak a peek at the tablet and the streaming security feeds but was instead given a close up of Mabel’s furry side when she clambered higher up onto his chest and stuffed her face into the hollow of his throat.

“ _Mabel_ ,” he whined, shifting his arms until he had the tablet free again. She snorted into his throat and licked him once, her pink tongue rough and wet against his skin.

“Bucky?” Tony half expected Steve to come running into the room when the kid started speaking again; he sighed and propped the tablet up against Mabel’s back to get a better look at what was going on in Steve’s room.

 

The video feeds were crystal clear. Steve was lying in his bed on his back, wrapped tightly in checkered blue and black blankets; he wasn’t alone in his room, but he and Bucky were the only people awake. Coulson was sitting with them, slumped in his chair like a mall Santa at the end of the day; he looked a little like he was going to slide out of the chair at any moment, but was somehow maintaining his balance with his fingers curled rightly around the bottom of the chair. Bucky was sitting on the floor, leaning back against Steve’s bed with his blankets pulled up over his feet. He kept tipping forwards every few seconds; the guy probably didn’t even realize he was nodding off.

Tony sighed and made the video larger, ignoring the other feeds.

 

“Bucky?” Steve called out again, rolling over onto his side so he could look down over the side of the bed where Bucky was sitting.

“What?” Bucky said, his voice gravelly. He rubbed his eyes and sat up straighter, letting his hand drop down to rest in his lap. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Steve said, heaving a sigh. “I had a dream,”

“Was it a bad one?”

“No,” Steve said. He tugged at his blankets. “It was a really good one,”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky yawned. He closed his eyes again and blinked them back open, swaying against the side of the bed. “Can it wait until morning?”

“I guess,” Steve said. “Did I wake you up?”

“No,”

“I heard you snoring,”

“That was the other guy,”

“ _Nu huh_ ,”

“ _Ya huh_ ,”

“You’re still bad at lying. Did you know that?” Steve asked.

“I disagree,” Bucky grumbled. “I think I’m very good at lying,”

“Is that what happens when you grow up?”

“I guess so,” Bucky said. “Ask me again tomorrow,”

“What happened to you?” Steve asked, his voice going soft. “No one wants to tell me. They think I’m too little to get it,”

“You don’t want to know,” Bucky said with a grunt. “It’s better if you don’t – believe me.”

“But you’re my _friend_ ,” Steve said, sounding hurt. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Bucky snapped. He closed his eyes and adjusted his blanket, tucking it against his hip. “This conversation is over,”

Steve fell silent. He pulled his blanket up over his head and vanished from sight.

Bucky sighed, forcefully banging the back of his head against the mattress. “So what was your dream about?”

“Nothing,” Steve muttered, his voice muffled by the blanket.

Bucky reached up and tugged at Steve’s blanket, easing it back so he could see Steve’s face. “I’m not telling you about what happened right now. I don’t want to think about it, ok? I just don’t – and I don’t want to explain it to you. You don’t need the nightmares, kid,”

“Was it bad?” Steve asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“We’re not talking about it – _remember_?”

“Sorry,”

“Don’t apologize. Just stop _asking_ ,” Bucky said, closing his eyes again. He cleared his throat. “So what was your dream about?”

“I was old and I was married,” Steve said, letting his arm dangle from the side of the mattress. “We lived in Stark Tower and had a floor all of our own,”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky chuckled. “Sounds like a good dream. Who was your special girl? Someone I know? Is she pretty?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling shyly. He picked at Bucky’s shirt, tugging at a string he found along the collar. “Can we get some water?”

“ _Water_?” Bucky mock groaned. “But then you’re going to have to _pee_!”

“But I’m thirsty,” Steve whined, sticking out his lower lip.

“And you call _me_ the bad liar,” Bucky grumbled. His knees cracked as he stood up. He dumped his blanket onto the end of Steve’s bed and waited with his hand on his hip while Steve struggled out of his blankets. The kid’s pajamas were light blue and covered in little polka dots that looked like Captain America’s shield if you squinted at them; it was Coulson’s work – it had to be. Tony had a hard time not laughing at the sight.

Steve led the way out of the room, slipping through the creaky doorway into the kitchen with Bucky trailing along after him; he was quieter than usual and Tony could barely hear him through the speakers even though they were turned up as high as they could go. Steve went up onto his tiptoes and leaned against the counter to get a cup. He struggled, but couldn’t quite reach what he wanted. He wiggled his fingers at the closest cup, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

Bucky chuckled. “You still can’t reach, huh, squirt?”

Steve scowled and stepped back from the counter. “It’s not my fault everything is so _tall_ ,”

Bucky smiled and patted Steve on the head, ignoring the way the kid kept scowling at him. “Sadly, that’s the world we live in,” he said, picking up the cup Steve had been reaching for. He filled it with water and handed it over, grabbing another cup so that he could get a drink of his own. They stood in silence, sipping water, watching each other drink; Bucky chuckled and leaned back against the counter, peering out the window at the ocean. He watched the waves and then turned back to the sink when Steve finished his drink and handed the cup back to him. Steve danced back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“Something wrong?” Bucky asked, setting the cups down beside the sink.

“I’m just thinking about the dream I had,” Steve said, glancing around the room. He spotted Clint, asleep on the couch, and turned back to Bucky, his cheeks going faintly pink. “I don’t know if I should tell you,”

Bucky smirked, “Oh? It must have been good – I think I want to know now,”

“The person I married in my dream wasn’t a _girl_ ,” Steve whispered.

Bucky snorted. “I _see_ ,” he said, ruffling Steve’s hair. “Well, we can’t _all_ marry pretty ladies,” he said, turning Steve around and pointing him at his bedroom. “I’m sure you’ll find yourself a pretty fella someday,”

“I don’t need to go find one. In my dream, I was married to Tony,” Steve said, letting himself be pushed towards his room.

Bucky nearly tripped on the carpet.

Tony nearly choked to death on his own saliva.

 

Bucky’s face went beet red. “What are you talking about?” he sputtered, steadying himself on the doorframe. He shooed Steve inside their bedroom and looked around, as though expecting someone to come running at him with a shotgun. He closed the door behind them and followed Steve back to bed, sitting back down on the floor beside the mattress as the kid crawled back under the covers.

“I _like_ Tony,” Steve said, pulling his blankets back up to his chin. “He’s nice,”

“He’s a creepy old man,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head.

“He is _not_ ,” Steve said, jabbing Bucky in the ear. “He’s not creepy _or_ old,”

“By the time you grow up, he’ll be older than _dirt_ ,” Bucky snorted. “Pick someone less geriatric,”

Steve scowled. “I don’t know what that means,”

“It means,” Bucky said, closing his eyes and leaning back against the mattress, “Tony Stark will be wearing _diapers_ by the time you’re grown up enough to marry him,”

Steve rolled over, pulling his blankets up over his shoulders. “Well, I don’t _care_ ,”

“Good for you,” Bucky said.

“I’m going to marry _Tony_!”

“Go ahead!”

“Fine!”

“What makes you think he’s going to want marry you anyway?” Bucky grunted. “He’s an adult – you’re a child. He’s a real creep if he’s been putting the moves on you,”

“He isn’t doing that!” Steve sounded horrified. “He’s a nice guy! He’d never do that,”

“Then why do you want to marry him?”

“He’s nice, and he doesn’t treat me like I’m stupid. I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Steve said. He pulled his blankets up over his head and fell silent.

Bucky pulled his blanket up around his hips and let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Fine. Be that way,”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

 

 

Tony sighed and pushed Mabel out of his face. He set his tablet down on the coffee table and slid down the side of the couch so that he could lie down without getting a crick in his neck; Mabel walked down his chest and curled up on his ankle, pinning it to the couch.

Steve wanted to marry him?

Tony chuckled and slipped a pillow under his head so his ear wasn’t digging into the armrest. He wasn’t so sure what to think about _that_ little gem. It was flattering as hell, of course.

Who _wouldn’t_ want to marry Steve?

Steve Rogers – _Adult_ Steve Rogers – was a real catch. It was _Tony Stark_ that wasn’t, at least according to the people Tony had dated in the past. It wasn’t like he didn’t date, either. It was just that most of the time when he walked into a banquet or down the street, he got the ‘don’t-touch-him-he’s-a-dirty-playboy’ look thrown his way; he might have enjoyed planning weddings, but he hadn’t really expected it to ever get serious enough for that to happen– at least not after Pepper had left him. Someone wanting to marry _him_ – genuinely wanting to marry him –well _that_ didn’t happen unless said person was a, _psychotic_ b, wanted his money or c, wanted to wear him like a pair of boots. Sometimes it was a bit of all three. That was sort of why he hadn’t been going out so often – well, that and Steve had been around and he hadn’t really felt up to it.

God, it was such a _weird_ thought…

Tony Stark marrying Steve Rogers….

First of all, it was more likely he would sprout wings and fly to Pluto. There was no way in hell Adult Steve would even _dream_ about something like that. Maybe in a nightmare-ish ‘dear-god-what-is-this-hell’ kind of way.

It was weirder that he was seriously entertaining the idea. It wouldn’t be a burden – that was for sure.

Tony smiled up at the ceiling.

He hadn’t thought about Adult Steve that way before. Yeah, he had wanted to be the guy’s friend, and he had wanted to be able to walk into a room without Steve wanting to snap him in half like kindling. But marrying him? Tony hadn’t wanted to _marry_ him.

Ok.

Fine.

That wasn’t _entirely_ true. There was a part of him that had wanted to marry Captain America ever since he had first laid eyes on those delicious black and white posters Howard had hung in his den. It had been a kid’s dream – one he had made himself lose interest in a long time ago. Captain America was an icon, a man of moral principles and upstanding honor. He was the kind of guy Tony had wanted on his side when Howard had been drunk, raving and angry. And Tony, well of course Tony had wanted to marry someone big and strong and kind like Cap. What kid wouldn’t? He supposed he could have done worse, daydream-wise. But Captain America wasn’t Steve Rogers – he had learned that the hard way the day they had met on the Helicarrier.

Cap was a legend – Steve Rogers could be a bit of an asshole when he wanted to be.

Steve wasn’t that bad once you got past the grumpy, _crusty_ , self-righteous old man outer shell, and ok, yes, _maybe_ Tony did have a teeny, microscopic thing for Steve Rogers and his massive shoulders and his _stupid_ , shapely backside, but it hadn’t like he was going to offer to have the guy’s babies. He hadn’t exactly _known_ Steve before now; they were teammates by necessity, not choice. Lust didn’t mean love.

 

Well, it didn’t really matter, did it? Crushes and dreams of what might be didn’t mean anything in the real world. Once Steve was himself again, all this would be conjecture. Steve wasn’t going to remember what he had dreamed and he definitely wasn’t going to run off to buy a wedding ring the second he laid eyes on Tony no matter how fantastic Tony looked. Hell, if he _looked_ at Tony without scowling murderously, it would be a miracle.

It was a good thing he hadn’t stuck around, Tony thought with a snort. It was better to be over here, safe from the awkward questions. At least this way he could go on with his life; he wouldn’t have to dwell anymore. At least _this_ way, he wouldn’t have to talk to Steve about _anything_. If he was lucky, by the time the kid woke up again, the dream would be nothing more than a distant memory.

 

 

Tony jerked awake as the alarm system squealed out its first warning. He grabbed for his tablet, ignoring the sharp, stinging pain in his thigh where Mabel had clawed him in mid-flight. He pulled up the cameras, searching for gunmen and Hydra agents, but there was nothing in sight. Sighing, he scrolled through Jarvis’ notifications until the motion sensors were tripped again. He nearly dropped the tablet.

There, darting across the beach in nothing more than his pajamas, was Steve.

Tony was up and off the couch in a second; he threw himself at the door and yanked it open before Steve could even stumble up the steps. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, fearing the worst and let out an oomph when Steve launched himself through the air. Tony found himself with an armful of crying, trembling, Steve.

“Honey? What’s wrong?” Tony asked, backing them into the house. He close the door and locked it, peering through the peek hole to see if someone was chasing the kid; when no one came into sight, he relaxed, but he couldn’t bring himself to put Steve down. “Steve? What’s going on?”

Steve sniffled wetly into Tony’s neck. “You _left_ ,”

Oh.

So _that_ was what it was.

Tony carried Steve away from the door and collapsed onto the couch, cradling Steve against his chest. “I know, I know,” he murmured, stroking Steve’s hair. “But you can’t just leave the house like that. You could have been grabbed!”

“But you _left_! You said you wouldn’t leave, and you left!” Steve sobbed, refusing to look Tony in the eye.

Tony felt like he had swallowed a truckload of bricks. He lowered his gaze, slumping against the back of the couch. He _had_ promised Steve he wouldn’t leave, hadn’t he? He had forgotten all about it; it felt like it had been years since he had made that promise. Shit. He was such an _asshole_! How could he have forgotten? “I’m sorry,” he said, not knowing what else to say. “I was going to tell you in the morning,”

Steve wrapped his arms tighter around Tony’s neck.

“How did you know I was here?” Tony asked. “Did Clint tell you?”

“No. No one said anything,” Steve hiccoughed, squashing his nose against Tony’s jaw. “I saw the lights on and I knew you were here,”

Oh god.

Tony barely managed to hold in his shriek of terror.

Steve had seen the lights on and come _running_? He had left the house because he had seen _lights_. There could have been _anyone_ over here – _anyone_ – and oh _god_. There could have been Hydra agents out there on the beach and Steve could have run right into their arms. “Steve?” Tony croaked, reaching for his phone. “Steve, did you tell anyone where you were going?”

Steve shook his head.

“Oh, _honey_ ,” Tony said, shakily hitting speed dial one with his thumb. He put the phone to his ear and waited for Clint to pick up, drumming his fingers stiffly on Steve’s shoulder. He ground his teeth as the phone rang over and over again. No one picked up.

What the fuck was going on over there?

How had Steve escaped without someone seeing him?

What could they _possibly_ be doing in the middle of the night?

It wasn’t like they were all out _shopping for pearls_! Someone was supposed to be watching the fucking cameras at _all_ _times_! He was just about ready to throw his phone across the room when Clint picked up on the twenty sixth ring.

Clint’s voice was groggy. “ _What_?”

“Hello,” Tony said as calmly as he could, not wanting to scare Steve any more than necessary; he knew Steve could tell how angry he was, but Clint sure couldn’t. “We have a _problem_ , Clint,”

“What?” Clint grunted. He yawned into the phone. “I was _sleeping_ , you jackass,”

“Oh – did I _wake_ you, _honeycheeks_?” Tony asked, sweetly. He hugged Steve tighter, tormented by images of the kid being scooped up and carried off without anyone knowing about it. He shuddered, resting his chin on the top of Steve’s head. “I’m _sorry_. I thought you were supposed to be taking over for _Natasha_ when she went to bed,”

“Yeah,” Clint said, clearing his throat. “Sorry about that. I fell asleep for a second. Don’t worry about it. What’s up?”

“Clint,” Tony said, trying hard not to raise his voice, “do me a favor. Go check on Steve, will you?”

“Fine,” Clint grumbled. “But you owe me one,”

Tony heard the sound of Clint’s footsteps over the phone. He didn’t need to watch the security feeds to know what happened next. He heard the swearing; he heard the sound of something heavy hitting floor. He heard the swearing – the accusations, the hurried, _useless_ plans for finding Steve. He waited until the noise had died down and then calmly murmured into the phone, “He ran across the beach to my place. He’s fine,”

“He _what_?” Clint screeched. “Jesus Fucking _Christ_ , Tony – why the hell didn’t you say that earlier? It’s fine – calm down, Barnes! He’s fine,”

Bucky’s voice was shrill and booming over the phone; he wasn’t quite yelling into the phone, but Tony pulled it away from his ear to avoid going deaf anyway. “It’s not fucking _fine_! He’s a little kid! He’s not supposed to be slipping past us! How the _fuck_ did he get out there without anyone seeing him?” Bucky yelled.

“He’s not hurt, right?” Clint asked, putting something over the receiver so he could muffle sounds of Bucky swearing like a sailor in the background. Someone was probably restraining him.

“He seems to be fine,” Tony said, stroking Steve’s hair. The kid sniffled and buried himself in the loose fabric of Tony’s shirt, holding on tightly to Tony’s arm. “It’s not him I’m concerned about,”

Mabel hit the back of the couch and pulled herself up. She meowed as she walked over to Tony’s shoulder, sniffing the air as she moved closer. She stopped to rub her nose against the shell of Tony’s ear before stepping up onto his shoulder and shoving herself in front of his face, nearly knocking the phone out of his hand.

“Tony?” Clint asked. “Hey, are you alright over there?”

“No, I am _not_ alright. There is a _cat butt_ in my face again,” Tony sputtered, spitting out a mouthful of cat hair. He gently shoved Mabel out from under his nose; she hissed at him and walked over top of Steve’s head with her tail held high after giving him a cursory sniff. She strode down Steve’s back, digging her claws into Steve’s shirt as she steadied herself for the descent. She settled on Tony’s knee with a grumpy look on her face and started washing her paws, taking care to get each and every toe clean. “Don’t look at me like that,” Tony muttered to the cat. He smoothed down Steve’s shirt, hoping the cat hadn’t scratched him up.

“ _Okay_ ,” Clint sighed. “Look, just keep him there until morning, will you? We’re going to have a bit of a team meeting over here and he’s probably not going to want to hear it,”

“You bet your ass you’re going to have a team meeting,” Tony growled, trying to shoo Mabel off his knee before her weight could put his leg to sleep. “You told me you were going to keep him safe, Clint,”

“I know!” Clint snapped. “ _I fell asleep, alright_? I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,”

“It better not,”

“It’s not like I was the only person here,” Clint muttered. “Everyone else was sleeping too, you know,”

“You were the one on duty, Clint,” Tony said. “I trusted you. You told me that you were going to keep an eye on him, and you didn’t.” He hung up before Clint could say anything else and set his phone face down on the coffee table; Mabel pranced over and kicked it away, sending it flying under the couch.

Steve sniffled into Tony’s shirt.

Tony settled his hands on the kid’s shoulders. “I’m pretty sure you know what I’m going to say,” he said, his voice turning soft.

“I shouldn’t have left the house,” Steve mumbled into Tony’s chest.

“Why didn’t you wake someone up and ask them where I was?”

“ _I don’t know_ ,”

“So what happened? You wanted to talk to me about something and you couldn’t find me – is that what happened?” Tony asked.

Steve nodded, wiping his nose on his damp sleeve. “I had a dream, and I talked to Bucky about it,”

“You had a dream,” Tony repeated slowly. “Was it a _bad_ one?”

“No,” Steve said, shaking his head. He wiped his nose again and looked away. “I was old and I got married to you,” he said, staring down at the couch. He looked up when Tony didn’t say a word and fidgeted, tugging at his sleeves. “Bucky said you’re a creepy old man. He said I shouldn’t marry you when I grow up because you’re going to be old,”

Tony smiled at Steve. “He’s not wrong,”

Steve’s eyes watered. “But I _want_ to marry you!”

“Steve,” Tony sighed, looking Steve in the eye. “By the time you grow up, I’m going to be too old for you. I’m already thirty seven, sweetheart,” he said, ruffling Steve’s hair. “I’ll be as old as someone’s _grandpa_. Besides, you shouldn’t be thinking about marriage. You’re _seven_ – give it some time, huh? You don’t want to rush into a decision like that. There will be plenty of people out there who you’ll like.”

Steve burst into tears. He buried his face in his hands and slumped in Tony’s lap, his shoulders trembling as he continued to sob. Tony stared at the kid, trying not to panic.

What had he done? He hadn’t been that mean, had he?”

“What’s wrong?” Tony murmured, leaning closer so he could hear Steve better.

Steve let out a heart crushingly loud wail. “You left because of me, didn’t you?”

Tony wrapped his arms around Steve and pulled him close again, tucking the child under his chin. “God, no! I left because I wanted to help keep you safe,” he said. “I thought it would be better if I stayed out of the way and kept an eye on you from a distance. You’ve already got Bucky and everyone else with you,”

“But they’re not _you_ ,” Steve sobbed, squashing himself into Tony’s chest again.

“They’re stronger than me – _better_ , even,” Tony said, struggling with his words. He knew what he wanted to say. ‘I’m too fucked up to be useful to you’ wouldn’t sound right – not to Steve. The kid wouldn’t know what that meant. ‘I’m sick’ had its own problems. Then the kid would think he was dying or something, and he didn’t want _that_. He settled for a good old fashioned excuse, one he had used time and time again when he had been hounded by Pepper for missing board meetings. “I needed space to work,” he murmured. “It’s not something you did. I just need to have some quiet time. It’s _really_ noisy over there,”

Steve looked up again, his eyes bloodshot and puffy. “It is?”

“Yeah, sweetie, it is,” Tony said, relieved that Steve had accepted the excuse so easily. He had expected to fail the way he usually did with Pepper, but it seemed that fate was on his side this time. “I need to keep an eye on the security cameras, because everyone else needs to rest. I’m not as tired as they are, so it’s better if I watch them,”

“But can’t you do that from _our_ house?” Steve asked.

“No,” Tony said, “I can’t work over there. It’s easier to get things done when I don’t have to worry about everyone constantly worrying about me all the time. But it’s not like I’m gone _forever_ ,”

Steve gave a soft sniffle and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

“You can come visit me here whenever you want, ok? I’m not going to lock the door and yell at you to get off my lawn,” Tony said, cracking a smile.

Steve smiled crookedly up at him. “You don’t _have_ a lawn,”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t yell about it,”

Steve sniffled. “Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Tony said, smoothing down Steve’s hair. “I’m not going to break this one, ok? Whenever you want to come over here, you can ask someone and they’ll bring you over.”

“So you’re not _mad_ at me?”

“No, Steve,” Tony said, pulling Steve against him. “No, kiddo. I’m not mad. I’ll never be mad at you,”

“But I messed up,” Steve said, burying his face in Tony’s shirt again. “They’re going to be really mad at me,”

Tony patted Steve’s back. “I don’t know what to tell you. They’re worried too,” he said with a shrug. “We’ll deal with it later, alright?” When he pulled his hand back, he noticed that it was covered in a thin layer of sand. It shouldn’t have been a problem. It was just a little sand, after all; he had been getting better with sand. But it wasn’t _just_ sand; he could smell salt water mixed in with it and that part was _fresh_. He hadn’t noticed it before, but Steve’s shirt was _damp_ – no. Not just damp. Dripping wet. He wasn’t sure how he had missed it. Tony’s gut clenched; the sand smeared in a grey line across his thumb when he tried to rub it off.

He tensed.

No – _no_.

Not the _sand_ – not _now_!

Not on _Steve_!

Tony rubbed the flat of his hand against Steve’s back, cringing when sand tumbled free; he gave Steve’s shirt another jerky rub and pulled his hand back, staring at the mess stuck to his skin. _Oh god – oh god – oh god – the kid had been near the water – he had been stumbling near the water – he had been alone near the water-_

Steve looked up. He glanced at Tony’s sandy hand with bleary, confused, eyes and then caught on. “I fell down,” he said, pushing himself off of Tony’s lap. He hurried over to the door and started dusting his clothes off over the mat by the door, slapping at his pajama bottoms as hard as he could. “It’s ok, Tony. I just fell down and I got sand stuck to my clothes,”

Tony gritted his teeth and stared at the sand smeared over his hand. It sparkled in the low light, as though it was something precious, but it wasn’t _precious_ – it was death and he could smell the salt water again. He retched into his hand. He knew that he was imagining the intensity of the smell; he knew that he was pulling it out of his nightmares. He wanted to believe that it was nothing, but he couldn’t – he couldn’t let it go, couldn’t let it mean nothing, because if he did someone could die – he could drown and he hated drowning – he hated the taste of the water. He jumped up and darted into the kitchen, his stomach clenching with each step; he threw himself at the sink and turned on the tap, letting a slow trickle of water fall free from the faucet. It dribbled over his hand, and he ignored his hatred of it in order to clean the sand away. This water didn’t smell like salt; it smelled like chlorine and metal. He scrubbed at his hands, slathering them in green apple scented dish soap from the bottle Clint had so thoughtfully left him; he continued to rub and claw at his hand until his skin was pink and raw, and all he could smell was chlorine and apples.

Tony felt Steve tug at his shirt as he was letting the bubbles finally wash from his wrist; his face flushed with heat.

 _Shit_.

The kid had seen him break _again_.

Why did Steve always have to see when he broke down? He turned slowly, trying to school his expression. He could do this if he tried hard enough; he had to do this.

Steve wasn’t dressed in his pajamas anymore. The kid must have dug through Tony’s bag, because he had pulled on a pair of Tony’s sweatpants and a green t-shirt, the one Tony used as pajamas; none of it fit him, but he had made it work.

Tony hadn’t seen anything this adorable in a long time.

The little guy had been swallowed up by fabric. Even with the drawstring around Steve’s waist pulled tight, the sweatpants looked like they were threatening to fall of him. The kid had rolled the pant legs up, so they weren’t _quite_ dragging across the floor, and it was probably pure luck that had kept him from tripping over them. Steve smiled up at Tony. “The sand’s gone,” he said.

Steve was safe. He was dry and safe – they were safe. Tony dropped down to his knees and swept Steve into his arms, squeezing him for all he was worth. He knew he was crying, but he couldn’t bring himself to care; Steve hugged him back just as tightly.

 

 

Tony cleaned the rest of the sand off the couch using a sticky tape roller he had bought at the pet store to get rid of cat hair; he didn’t look at the befouled tape when he was done catching the last grains of sand. He chucked it into the trash as quickly as possible, his gaze averted. The floor was a little harder. He couldn’t use the sticky tape roll on it unless he wanted to crawl around on his hands and knees, so he found himself a broom and got to work. The work went easier if he kept an eye on Steve while he swept; he left the rest of the invading sand dumped neatly in a pile beside the front door. He wanted to dump it outside, but that would have meant getting an eyeful of the beach so he decided to ignore it. That job could wait until morning; it wasn’t like they were rushing anywhere. No one was going to say anything to him. He had plenty of time to procrastinate.

He went into the bathroom to hang up Steve’s damp pajamas. The kid was more of a miracle worker than Natasha. He had pulled every last grain of sand from his clothing, and he had been quick about it too. Tony hadn’t even seen him do it. The kid had even cleaned up the sand he had tracked into the bathroom.

Tony smiled at Steve’s damp t-shirt. He held it up to his chest to compare sizes and chuckled softly at the sight. Sometimes he forgot just how _small_ Steve really was. The kid seemed to forget about that part too. He could see why Erskine had picked Steve as his test subject. The kid was all heart.

Tony sighed and hung the shirt up on the shower curtain bar, angling it so it wouldn’t fall down into the tub. It was strange to think that Steve was a few rooms away; he hadn’t expected the kid to go anywhere without Bucky at his side, but here he was. It was funny how quickly things changed.

“Tony?” Steve called out from the living room. “Can I use the bathroom? I have to pee,”

“It’s all yours,” Tony yelled back. He settled down on the couch, kicking his feet up onto the arm rest and let his eyes droop shut. Soon enough morning would be here, and he would have to escort the kid back across the sand so they could face the consequences of what had happened. At least this way he could gather his wits before the trek back. Sure, he would have to wake up when Steve came back, but a few minutes of sleep couldn’t hurt.

 

 

Tony blinked awake when Steve prodded him in the forehead. He looked up, blinking his dry eyes, and tried to get his bearings before his body decided to head back to la-la-land. “What’s up?” he asked.

“I want to go to sleep now,” Steve said, shuffling in place. He turned and looked towards the bedroom. “Can we go to bed?”

Tony gave his head a shake, trying to clear his thoughts. Maybe a power nap hadn’t been the best idea. He could feel himself nodding off already. He turned and looked over at the bedroom before yawning into his arm. “Go on. You’ve got the bed to yourself, kiddo,” he said, pulling his pillow a little higher up the arm of the chair. He tried to get comfortable again.

Steve looked down at his feet; he let his hand drop to his side as he released Tony’s shirt. “Oh,” he said with a sigh.

Tony opened one bloodshot eye. “What, _oh_? It’s a _nice_ bed! It’s bigger than the one you have in the other house,”

Steve shrugged and turned, stalking towards the bedroom. “Never mind,”

“Steve,” Tony grumbled, sitting up, “I need to keep an eye on the cameras, remember? If I sit in there I’m going to start snoring,”

“But you’re _already_ snoring out here,” Steve grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tony scrubbed his hand over his face. Well, he couldn’t argue with _that_ logic. He _had_ snorted himself awake twice already, and he hated waking up that way; he didn’t like getting whiplash every time he fell asleep. He combed the tangles out of his hair with his fingers and got up.

He could _almost_ forgive Clint for falling asleep while on watch.

 _Almost_.

Tony tucked his pillow under his arm. He wondered if the others were still sitting around the kitchen table getting the _talk_ ; usually their team meetings ended at a reasonable hour, but as their benevolent leader was now _seven_ and their crabby, one eyed leader was trapped at SHIELD HQ, they weren’t going to be getting the same tongue lashing as usual. It was hard to say how things would go. Tony was pretty sure that with Coulson around there would be plenty of verbal smack-downs for everyone; he just hoped _he_ wasn’t going to get a smack of his own. He had, after all, fallen asleep too – although to be fair, there hadn’t been any expectations of _him_ being awake.

“Tony,” Steve grumbled. “I’m _tired_ ,”

“I know, I know,” Tony grunted. He grabbed his tablet from the coffee table and made his way around the back of the couch. “Alright. You win. Fine, I’ll sit on the bed with you while you sleep, but I’m _not_ falling asleep,” he muttered, more to himself than to Steve. He slunk around to the other side of the bed and sat down on the left-hand side of the mattress, propping himself up against the wall. He didn’t trust himself to stay awake if he crawled under the covers; it would be too warm and comfy there and he needed to be alert, not comfortable. It was better to have the headboard digging into his shoulder than to be snoring into a pillow, leaving Steve unprotected.

Steve grinned and scrambled up into the bed, pulling the blankets up over him. He rolled around until he was comfortable and then sank into his pillow with a yawn, turning to face Tony. “Good night,”

Tony smiled and patted Steve’s head. “Nighty night,” he said. He set his tablet on his lap. If he wasn’t going to sleep, he might as well get some work done. “Hey, Jarvis? Bring up my last project,”

The tablet blinked once and then glowed a deep purple as the newest version of the arc reactor was dredged up from storage. This reactor was a backup, built to spec to work on the Quinjet in case they needed to jump start something big. They had fried over three engines trying to get broken down equipment running again while on missions, and he had no intention of losing his babies that way again. It felt good to work again. When he looked up from his tablet again, Steve was sleeping.

 

 

Tony grunted and looked around, blinking back tears of pain. What the hell was going on? _Oh_. Steve had rolled into his head. Right. Tony gave his head a scratch. He hadn’t been sleeping. Nope. Definitely not. It had just looked like it.

“I’m sorry,” Steve squeaked. He went back to trying to untangle himself from his pile of blankets, disappearing beneath them.

“Its fine, Steve,” Tony mumbled, rubbing at his sleep-sticky eyes. He picked up his tablet, casually checking the time. Well, at least he had only been asleep for an hour. Clint and the others had been up the last time he had checked in on them, so it wasn’t as if he had dozed off at a _bad_ time. Tony yawned and stretched out, cursing the crick in his neck. Yep. Lying down had been a bad idea after all; he blamed the couch. This was all its fault. He sat up slowly, trying to ease the pain out of his stiff muscles and set about untangling Steve from the blanket before the kid could strangle himself with them by accident. He laughed as the kid rolled free and caught him by the leg to keep him from tumbling clean off the side of the bed. “Be careful, _you_ ,” he said with a smile.

Steve grinned at him, still upside down. “I _had_ it,”

“Uh, _huh_ ,” Tony said, smoothly sliding Steve across the blankets so he wasn’t so close to the edge. He let the kid go and dragged himself out of bed, stumbling towards the door with his tablet tucked under his arm. It was ten minutes after seven now; he didn’t like being awake so early, but Coulson did, so it was likely they were going to have Clint knocking at the door by seven fifteen at the latest. If he was lucky, the bastard would bring coffee with him and he had a feeling the archer was going to be in the groveling mood. He was going to drink an entire pot to himself, he decided. He was going to load it up with cream and sugar and drink it down straight from the carafe. “What do you think? Breakfast now, or later?” Tony asked, making his way into the kitchen. He put his tablet down on the counter beside the fridge and pulled open the cupboards, looking for something breakfast-like. Sure, he could always cook up some eggs or try his hand at making edible pancake batter, but if there was cereal in the cupboard, he wasn’t against taking a few shortcuts. He found a brand-new box of Wheaties and wrinkles his nose at it. Oh boy. Clint had bought him… _fiber_. He looked around behind the box on the off-chance that there would be something else hiding behind it, but all he could find was a squashed box of Cream Of Wheat. And then he found something worse. “ _All-Bran_?” he growled, pushing the box further into the cupboard. “Who buys All-Bran?” Nope. Clint was _definitely_ not being forgiven – even with the coffee. Clint could thank the _All-Bran_ personally.

 

Tony pulled out the box of Wheaties and set it on the counter with a sigh. They were lucky Steve would eat pretty much anything; most kids wouldn’t have touched the stuff without a pile of sugar dumped on top of it, but Steve didn’t have that problem. It turned out to be a good thing, because there wasn’t any sugar anyway. He peeked in the freezer on the off chance that there would be something better inside and shut it with a dreary scowl. There wasn’t even any frozen fruit. What kind of hell was this?

Steve tugged the Wheaties off the counter and ferried them over to the table, setting them down near the edge so they were still within reach. He turned around, nearly tripping on his rolled up pant legs and made a dash for the counter, pulling the nearest drawer open in search of cutlery. He pulled out two spoons and carried them over to table after neatly pushing the drawer back in with the flat of his hand. “Do you want me to get the milk?”

“Sure,” Tony said as he went through the cupboard above his head. “We had a slight problem,” he said as he closed the cupboard door. “We have no dishes,”

Steve stared up at Tony, his eyes wide in disbelief. He cradled the carton of milk against his chest as though he might faint. “We don’t have _anything_?”

“I’ll keep looking, but I don’t think I’m going to find any bowls in this joint,” Tony said. Well, it wasn’t a complete disaster _yet_ , he thought as he rifled through cupboards. There was probably something of use _somewhere_ ; they would just have to be creative. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done this before. When he had been in university, he had eaten out of measuring cups when he had run out of dishes; it hadn’t really bothered him, but Rhodey had side-eyed him for almost a week after he had caught him doing it. “Maybe there’s something _here_ ,” Tony muttered. He grinned widely when he found a pair of ceramic coffee mugs. They were dusty and a hideous shade of lime green, likely left behind by another tenant, but they would work. He cleaned them up as Steve broke into the Wheaties; he had a hard time not laughing when he saw the way Steve had torn the plastic bag to shreds. “ _Aww_ ,” he said, setting the clean mugs down on the table. “What did the bag do to deserve _that_?”

Steve scowled at him, his lower lip sticking out. “It wouldn’t rip right,”

Tony smiled and ruffled Steve’s hair. “Ok. Well, the bag’s _mostly_ intact,” he said. “That was very kind of you.” He chuckled as Steve fill their mugs and turned back to his tablet, checking the time and the exterior cameras.

It was almost seven twenty.

Was that right?

The time had to be wrong, because that _couldn’t_ be right. If it was _really_ seven twenty, Clint would be on the porch already, coffee and apology food in hand. Tony glanced over his shoulder at Steve, trying not to worry. The kid was busy pouring cereal carefully into the mugs, stuffing them as full as possible. Maybe he needed to eat something. It was probably nothing.

Tony started gnawing on his lower lip.

He didn’t want to look at the cameras – he _really_ didn’t – but there was no other way to get the nagging voice in the back of his head to shut up. He stepped closer to Steve as the kid poured milk into their mugs and pulled up the security cameras on his tablet, praying that he was wrong.

At first, it looked like it was just another morning. There were clean plates and glasses waiting on the kitchen table, ready for use; a pile of toast was sitting on a plate in the centre of the table, right beside a bottle of pulp-free orange juice. The toast was buttered and half-burnt, delicious looking even with the little black bits around the edges. If he had to guess, Clint had been manning the toaster again, because it was lying on its side and looked a bit like it was ready to hurl itself out a window.

There was nothing weird about that.

Coulson had been taking care of breakfast for weeks, and the table always looked like this. When Clint and Natasha were the ones setting the table, it looked a little lopsided and chaotic, and with Bucky helping out, the glasses usually ended up stacked upside-down; it was easy to tell who had been in charge. It took him a second to figure out what made him so uneasy; there was no one standing post at the stove. Someone was _always_ at the stove – Clint _always_ had eggs and he was always trying to steal the bacon when it came out of the pan. Tony could only remember one time when the archer hadn’t been there pressed up against Coulson’s back and that had been because Steve had used the last of the eggs to make a ‘cheer up Tony’ cake the night before and he had been sulking because there hadn’t been any eggs left.

Tony zoomed in again, using the camera to snoop around the hallway. Maybe Coulson had run off to the bathroom because they had all caught Steve’s flu. Hell, maybe Clint had burned himself on the toaster and needed first aid – _again_.

Tony waited and watched, taking the mug Steve held out to him only because he didn’t know what else to do with it.

Time didn’t change anything; he wished that it had.

A frying pan sat on a burners, loaded up with raw eggs; the pile of uncooked bacon sitting in the centre of another pan looked like it had finished melting off the last of the ice from the freezer. There was no Coulson carefully tending it. Everything looked so _still_.

It wasn’t right – _something_ wasn’t right.

Tony zoomed in on the stove again. Could the breakers have gone out? Had they been forced to hunt down tools to make repairs? He knew Natasha had a spare set, so it wasn’t like they had nothing to use. He turned his attention to the pancake batter sitting in a bowl beside the toaster. He swallowed hard. He changed cameras and zoomed in on the batter again. He squinted at the video.

Was that a fly in the batter?

Yep.

That was definitely a fly.

There was a fly in the goddamned batter and it had congealed because it had been left sitting out – that was all. It was nothing, he told himself.

Only, it _wasn’t_ nothing, because the house was _empty_.

Tony checked room after room, going so far as to peer into the _bathroom_ on the off-chance that everyone had decided to take some kind of creepy orgy-slash-bath, but it was empty too. Had there been an attack? He couldn’t see signs of a struggle; there was nothing broken, no torn clothing, no upended chairs or tables. It was like everyone had faded into nothingness. He changed cameras again and started searching through the exterior feeds, all too keenly aware of the sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

It didn’t seem to matter where he looked.

There was no sign of anyone – no footsteps in the sand, no drag marks or unexpected piles of rubble. The car was still in the driveway, untouched. The windows and doors were still locked. The security system was still on.

Oh _god_.

They had trusted Bucky –

This _had_ to be Bucky – this _had_ to be his work.

“Tony?” Steve called out from the kitchen table. He lifted up his spoon and ate another mouthful of Wheaties. “Your cereal’s gonna get mushy,”

Tony clenched his hand around his mug so hard he was surprised he didn’t break it.

That bastard! He wanted to scream. They had trusted him, and he had screwed them over!

“Tony?” Steve lowered his spoon.

Tony put the tablet down and walked over to the front door. He checked the lock and stood there on the door mat by the pile of sand, staring out through the peek hole at the beach; his mug hit the floor with a dull thud and rolled away, dribbling soggy Wheaties and milk all over the floor.

Nothing had changed outside.

It would have been better if the cameras were frozen – if the system had been broken. He could fix a broken system – he could repair broken cameras.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice turned shrill.

Tony whirled around.

“ _Tony_!” Steve knocked over his chair and his mug as he dashed over to Tony. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s legs, holding on tightly, burying his face in Tony’s hip. “There’s a man with a red face in the window,”

Tony turned to look out the kitchen window; he saw something hit the glass, watched it splinter and bulge inwards, and took a step back when it finally shattered as a red fist hit it again and again. He was ready to fight, but there was no time to move – no time to think. Something pricked him in the side of the neck. He tried to reach up and grab whatever it was and then there was nothing but Steve screaming as the world went slowly black.

 

 

 

Tony’s head was throbbing; he wasn’t sure how long he had been out, and the puddle of drool under his cheek made it clear he had been here longer than he would have liked. The floor he was lying on was made of finished cement, smooth and cold to the touch.

Where was his reactor?

His breath felt like it was ripped from his lungs as the panic attack tore through him. He felt along his chest for the arc reactor, even though he could see the faint blue light of it painted across the floor beneath him. It was fine, he muttered under his breath, his voice still slurred from the tranquilizer, it was fine. The reactor was in his chest and it was working. He got his breathing under control and meekly lifted his head. “Steve?” he croaked.

There was no answer.

The room was empty, aside from him. He was lying in a cell, a room ready for use and stripped of comforts. This wasn’t a suit at the Four Seasons – this wasn’t daycare. This wasn’t the place for a child. This was a place for people who had disappeared. Tony’s gut clenched as he pushed himself upright; he knew that there was nothing he could do now – not with Steve nowhere to be seen – but he had to do _something_. He had to try.

_If they hurt Steve…_

Tony gritted his teeth. The bastards were going to pay for this. They had broken into his home, taken his friend and his peace and quiet – that alone was grounds enough for a face-bashing, assuming of course that he could figure out the faces he needed to bash.

Had Bucky been responsible?

Had they been sold out for a lousy seven million in unmarked, untraceable bills?

Tony didn’t like Bucky, but now that the panic was gone he wasn’t so sure he could see the guy selling Steve out. He couldn’t be sure, but Bucky had seemed to really care about the kid, and yeah he had seen people fake that kind of devotion and love before, but even Obi hadn’t been _that_ good.

It didn’t really matter.

They were in Hydra’s cage now, and the threat wasn’t Bucky – _if_ he had been a threat to begin with. It was the Red Skull and his scientists who were dangerous; they were the ones who might rip Steve apart and kill him for shits and giggles. Tony hadn’t thought that Hydra’s agents could get so close, not with Jarvis watching – with all the Avengers working together. It had seemed like a vague possibility, at least until Bucky had come roaring into the picture. One thing was for sure, Tony thought as he raked his fingers through his sweaty hair. He was going to burn this place to the ground when he got out of here; anything left over would be SHIELD’s problem. He would do whatever it took to get Steve to safety, and if that meant cutting through every goddamned wall in this place with a plastic spoon, he would do it; he couldn’t lose Steve. He couldn’t. Nothing else mattered anymore except for Steve.

Tony patted down his arms and legs to see what he still had with him. The spare screwdriver he usually kept in his sock were gone; so was his watch. He felt along the back of his neck and grimaced as his fingers came sticky with half-congealed blood.

Ah.

Well, that answered _one_ question. Hydra had indeed found the first tracking chip he had put in; they had been thorough in their search. He decided not to risk checking for the one in his hip or the one between his toes. Someone could be watching, even if he couldn’t see any cameras and if they hadn’t found those ones he didn’t want to risk giving them away. The place was likely lead lined or shielded from tracking, but you never knew what might sneak though.

When he finished his search, he found that, as expected, he didn’t have anything of use on him aside from his brain. Strictly speaking, that wasn’t a problem. It just made things a little more… _complicated_ considering there was no work to be done here – no Jericho to build, suit to scrounge out of spare parts. He tried not to think about Yinsen and the cave; now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past. He needed to be strong now – he needed to keep it together. He had been kidnapped too many times already to be scared and he was goddamn sick and tired of ending up in cement cells. Well, he thought with a weary sigh, at least he wasn’t zap strapped to a bedframe again. There was always _that_.

Aside from stripping him of his socks, they hadn’t done much; they had seemingly ignored the arc reactor. He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t taken it, but he didn’t trust that it was safe. He would never trust that – not here. Maybe one day they would want something out of him – maybe not – only time would tell. He surveyed his cell, searching for defects and escape routes. The room was cold, but dry and while that might have been a blessing once, he knew it would be used against him somehow. If there was power here, there was probably going to be heating and if there was heating…well, there was probably air conditioning; both were great for torture, if you knew how to use them and he had a feeling that Hydra was well versed in torture. Cement was great for keeping things cold, and with his lack of socks… well, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what might happen in the future. The only way to stay warm now would be to behave and stay on the pathetic excuse for a futon his captors had left against the back wall.

 _Great_.

Well, it was better than nothing, and if he was lucky it might even be _clean_. Oh boy!

Tony hobbled over to the futon and sat down, tucking his feet under him so his toes could defrost. From this position, the room didn’t look much better, but at least his feet were warmer. There wasn’t anything of use around except for the yellow plastic bucket someone had thoughtfully left behind; he pushed it away from the futon when he realized what it was going to be used for. He hoped the Avengers were out there somewhere, looking for them. If not – well, Rhodey would come. Rhodey always came looking for him when he vanished.

Tony wrapped his arms around his middle, trying to ignore his chattering teeth. Focus on the room, he ordered himself. Focus on the plan. You need to get out of here – you need to find Steve and you need to take him home to the Tower. You need to be _strong_ for Steve. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before opening them again. The lighting was too soft to illuminate the room entirely, he noted as his eyes adjusted again. He could make out the faint outline of a door in the far wall, but knowing where it was wasn’t going to do him any good. Everything here was smooth, every surface flawless and custom built to spec; there would be no way to open that door unless it was pushed open from the other side. This wasn’t just some spare room – it had been built for a reason. There would be no lines or convenient panels to tear apart; he was trapped here until they wanted to deal with him. “Fantastic,” he muttered. He closed his eyes and went back to making plans.

 

 

After the first few hours he knew he wasn’t going to be able to escape without help. The guards came by to drop off his dinner or whatever meal it was, and they weren’t the sort of thugs Tony was used to seeing; yes, they were both burly muscle-men wearing masks and heavy looking uniforms of pale grey, but they weren’t stupid and they definitely weren’t taking any chances. One of them had a gun trained on Tony the entire time they were in the room and they like the idea of him moving off the futon; any time he tried, even if he only made a twitch or a stretch, they moved in response. They didn’t have to tell him to behave. The way they were dressed was enough to tell him just how cold this place could get; he had a feeling he was going to have to behave himself unless he wanted to end up taking a hack saw to his frozen toes. He listened to his own advice and waited patiently for them to put down the tray and retreat before he made another move.

They seemed happy with that; they left without saying a word.

The meal wasn’t much. It smelled a bit like old boots, and tasted like the army ration pack he had found in Howard’s room when he had been three, unsupervised and hungry; it was stale, too. There was pudding and a piece of greyish-green meat keeping the ration bar company. He wasn’t so sure he should touch anything; it all looked awful, but he forced himself to eat everything on the plate. There was no way of knowing when his next meal might come, if one came at all, and he needed to keep his strength up. It wasn’t too horrible, really. Everything tasted a little bit like chalk and chocolate; that included the meat. It wasn’t bad, but it definitely wasn’t _good_ , either. The water the guards brought him couldn’t wash the taste of it out of his mouth.

When the guards came back _exactly_ thirty minutes later to get the tray and cutlery, they checked everything over three times before they moved towards the door again; one kept his gun aimed at Tony’s head, unconvinced by Tony’s good behavior.

Tony kept his hands to himself. He had stolen cutlery once in the cave with Yinsen, and he knew better than to swipe things so quickly. He had a lopsided cluster of cigarette burns on the back of his left heel to remind him of that hard learned lesson; he would wait. There would be better times to steal things away.

The guards didn’t say anything when he asked to see Steve.

He asked louder.

They ignored him and walked out the door.

Tony put his head in his hands and went back to waiting.

 

 

The door opened twelve hours later. Tony was barely awake; his eyes were raw from all the times he had rubbed at them. He tried to get up and then fell back to his knees as Steve was shoved into the room. The kid stumbled towards him; he was dressed in light blue hospital scrubs, the kind that could be untied from behind. His loose pants matched in colour and were damp around the cuffs. There were bandages wrapped tightly around Steve’s forearms and throat. They were stained an ugly brownish red. Steve’s bare feet slapped against the cement as he ran towards Tony, diving into his arms; tears streamed down his pale face. He curled in Tony’s grasp, tucking his head under Tony’s chin.

“Steve,” Tony murmured, stroking the kid’s hair. He pulled Steve close, rocking him back and forth. “It’s ok, honey,”

“I don’t like it here,” Steve whispered, wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck.

“We’ll be back for him later,” the guard said, nodding to Steve.

Tony tensed as the door slammed shut. He smoothed down Steve’s rumpled hair and pulled the kid up onto the futon so his feet weren’t on the cold cement. “Are you alright?” he asked, reluctantly pulling free from Steve’s embrace. The kid sniffled and hugged himself, nodding his head slowly as though it were far too heavy for him to control. Tony ran his hands over Steve’s arms, feeling along the smooth lines of bandages. He didn’t want to pull in case they were hiding something serious, but he needed to see what Hydra had done; he gently unwound the bandages, mindful of the pain his movements caused. There were puncture marks in Steve’s skin; they were oval shaped and over an inch wide, still freshly bleeding. Tony hissed to himself and tugged the bandages back in place, pressing down on them until the bleeding stopped. “What did they do?” he asked, keeping his voice soft.

“The scraped me with a knife,” Steve said, running his fingers over the bandage as Tony tied it back in place. “It was sharp, but they had to keep making it sharper,”

Tony shuddered and turned to the bandage around Steve’s neck. “What did they do here?” he asked, feeling along the fabric’s edge.

“They have needles,” Steve whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut.

Tony pulled him closer. “It’s ok,” he murmured, wishing there was something he could do to make his words more than just words, “You’re ok now,”

Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck again and crawled into his lap. “They hurt my legs too,” he said with a sniffle. “They said they needed samples,”

Tony buried his anger as deeply as possible, saving it away. He leaned back against the cold wall and held Steve to his chest, checking the kid’s arms and legs for damage, afraid of making things worse. There were needle marks between Steve’s toes and puncture marks on the heels of his feet. Most of those were bruised and scabbed over now, likely done earlier in the day; they weren’t as big as the marks on Steve’s arms, but that wasn’t any real consolation.

How long would it take them to get the results from their tests?

The scientists were obviously looking for the serum, but they weren’t the first people who had tried to get at its secrets. SHIELD had a whole freezer stuffed with plasma and blood and god knows what else; if _they_ hadn’t found the secrets to Erskine’s formula in the months since they had taken _their_ samples, Hydra wouldn’t a hope in hell of getting anything in a few hours. Tony smiled at that and lowered himself onto his side. Hydra wouldn’t win – not now, and not ever. He tucked Steve against him, wishing he had a blanket to wrap around the kid’s shaking shoulders. Steve burrowed closer, burying his face in Tony’s shirt.

 

 

Tony woke to the sound of the door opening. He was exhausted from the constant wake-sleep-wake loop he had been sucked into; he would have given a kidney for some coffee. He sat up and pulled Steve behind him. The guards weren’t going to steal Steve away – not with him here to stop them. “You can’t have him,” he said. He felt Steve’s arms wrap around his middle from behind him; the kid’s cheek was warm against his back.

The guard snickered and nodded to his friend. Their faces were still hidden behind masks, but those masks now included large, plastic safety goggles. They were dressed in thick black uniforms today. All the better to hide the blood. Tony tried to make himself bigger. He knew he couldn’t beat them, not in a fair fight, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

The first guard stepped into the room, his gait slow and smooth. He was carrying two trays, both loaded up with breakfast foods. There were pancakes and a plastic container of apple sauce; a glass of water and a carton of milk sat beside them, nearly dwarfed by a bowl piled high with cantaloupe and honey dew melon. “You know the drill, Stark,” the guard said, stepping closer. “Hands where I can see them or your brains paint the walls.”

The second guard stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, pointing his gun at Tony’s head. He kept a hand beside the utility knife strapped to his leg, as though he was going to rip it free and give it use at any moment.

Tony watched as the other guard set the trays down in the middle of the room. He froze when the guard with the gun rapped his knuckles on the door. Was someone else coming in? Or was this _their_ time? The door popped open, sliding sideways into the other side of the wall with a slick swish. The first guard strolled out backwards, disappearing from sight only when the second backed out to join him.

The door closed.

Tony slumped forwards.

Good.

They weren’t going to try and take Steve yet. He still had time to try and figure out how to keep him safe. He got up, carefully peeling Steve’s hands from around his middle and scooped up the twin trays of food, hopping back onto the futon before his feet could recognize the cold. He found himself a good spot near the futon’s edge, making sure Steve had enough space, and held the tray out. Steve took it without prompting, digging in before Tony could lower his own tray into his lap. The kid ate like he was starved; that was standard procedure these days, but the sight of him cramming food into his mouth didn’t seem right. The kid was more ravenous than usual, more careful with his food, like he thought someone was going to yank it away. He could have inhaled the tray by accident if Tony hadn’t been there to supervise him.

Tony shifted in place, trying to even out the cold creeping through his backside. He pushed his cup of apple sauce off to the side of his tray, cutting up his pancakes with slow, deliberate strokes, chewing through each bite until his jaw was complaining about it.

Steve set his tray down on the cement and wrapped his arms around his middle; he was shivering all over again.

Tony picked up his container of apple sauce and handed it over to Steve.

The kid smiled shyly at him. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. He went back to eating his pancakes, watching out of the corner of his eye as Steve tore the top off the apple sauce like it was wrapping paper on the world’s best Christmas present. The kid ate slower this time, seeming to enjoy what he had with each spoonful. By the time Tony was done with his cardboard pancakes and the rest of the food on his tray, the kid was down to the last inch of apple sauce, and it looked almost like he was trying to figure out if he had room for it or not.

Tony put his tray down on top of Steve’s, stacking them neatly with the cutlery sitting up on top. A part of him whispered that he didn’t have to be neat and tidy for the guards; he ignored the voice. If they were going to try and take Steve again, he wanted them to bring the kid back here to him afterwards. He didn’t like it, but he knew he might need to let it happen. He needed to be on good behavior – it was the only thing he would be able to bargain with considering they didn’t seem to want to mine him for tech. He stroked Steve’s hair and pulled the kid closer, trying to give him what little warmth he could. Steve sighed and finished his apple sauce, setting the empty container down on top of their trays. He tucked himself under Tony’s arm so that the slit in the back of his scrubs was pinned shut against Tony’s side.

“Are we going to be ok?” Steve asked.

Tony wanted to say yes. “I don’t know,” he said instead of outright lying. “The others are still out there. They’ll come get us,”

“Ok,” Steve said, closing his eyes. “Can I sleep for a bit?”

“Sure,” Tony said, his gaze locked on the door. “I’ll wake you up if anything happens, ok, kiddo?”

Steve nodded against Tony’s side. He hugged Tony’s arm against his chest. “We’ll be alright,” he said, as though he really believed it.

 

 

It didn’t take long for the guards to return; Steve sat up stiffly as soon as the door opened, ripped from what little sleep he had managed to get. The guard who had brought in the trays checked them over five times and slipped into the hall. He didn’t close the door behind him. Tony heard him talking, likely into a radio, but couldn’t make out what was being said. The once sided conversation seemed to be unending, and boring for the most part. Either that, or the guard was just plain dead inside.

“The kid’s going with us,” the second guard said, drawing Tony’s attention. He stepped forward and held out a hand as though he expected Steve walk towards him and take it. “They want to run a few more tests,”

Tony scowled, wrapping his arm tighter around Steve’s shoulders. “He’s coming back here after, right?”

“If he doesn’t move now,” the guard with the gun growled, “then _you’re_ going to pay for it, Stark,”

“Answer the question,” Tony gritted out. He wanted to take a swing at the guy, but he knew it wouldn’t end well if he did. “He’s coming back here after, _right_?”

The guard without the gun strode back into the room and smashed Tony in the side of the head, knocking him to the ground as easily as he might flick away a piece of unwanted fluff. The move wasn’t fast, but it was strong, brutal and efficient in a way Tony knew came from vigorous training. The gloves the guy was wearing had to have been lined with something like lead for the blows to land so solidly, Tony mused as he spit out a mouthful of bloody spit. He was lucky he still had his teeth. The room spun; he barely had time to take in a breath before he was kicked in the gut and sent skidding across the cement.

Steve screamed as the other guard dragged him out of the room by his hair. He kicked and flailed, trying to strike at the man’s arm, but he couldn’t reach anywhere that mattered and he was too light to get any leverage.

Tony struggled to get up, his fingers curled like claws against the cement. The guard standing above him sighed and shook his head, booting Tony in the shoulder hard enough to send him rolling towards the wall again. “Stay _down_ , Stark,”

“You’re bringing him back,” Tony wheezed, trying to push himself up. “Right?”

“Shut up,” the guard said, giving Tony a kick to the ribs. He reached down as Steve’s screams faded and dragged Tony over to the futon by the back of his pants, dropping him on his belly. “Next time, I won’t be so nice, so you’d better learn how to behave yourself,”

Tony pushed himself up; he collapsed when the guard stomped down on the small of his back and cried out, unable to hold the pain in. He lay still, gasping for breath, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. The futon smelled like stale sweat and dust now that he was so close to it again. His hip throbbed angrily as the guard prodded him with the toe of his boot.

“Stay down,”

“He’s coming back,” Tony murmured, “ _right_?”

The guard snorted. “How the fuck should I know? Do I _look_ like I’m in charge, sweetheart?” He gave Tony another kick, but this one was softer, a little less vicious than before, less steel toe and more leather boot heel. “Just stay down and behave yourself. If the Skull wants the brat dead, there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about it, understand?”

“You’d let them kill a _kid_?” Tony rasped, licking the blood from his lips.

The guard kicked Tony in the hip again. “I do my job, _pal_. That brat is Captain America. He’s not a kid,” he said, walking away.

The door closed with a hiss.

The lights turned off all at once, dropping Tony into darkness. He took in a deep breath through his nose, trying to keep calm. Something started whirring inside the walls. Tony shivered as a cold draft began to creep over his fingers. Groaning, he pulled his pant legs down around his toes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long hiatus! Christmas took up a lot of my time, but this chapter is basically two in one, so hopefully that makes up for it. Assuming of course people don't want to murder me for the ending of this chapter hehe. Let me know if you spot anything weird!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Red Skull wasn't a very nice host, although Tony hadn't expected him to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mild torture (but nothing horrible).

They left him in the dark to lick his wounds; he curled up on his side on the futon and tried to keep his exposed skin from being claimed by the cold by drawing his arms into his shirt. He wished he hadn’t picked out the short sleeved shirt that morning, but there was nothing he could do about it now. It wasn’t like he could have known that it was going to get fucking freezing cold. He had been on the _beach_ for god’s sake – it had been nice and _warm_ there. He was starting to miss the beach house, even if he did loath the sand and water. At least _there_ he wouldn’t get frostbite.

It was impossible to stay warm. His pant legs weren’t quite long enough to cover the bottom half of his feet, and even when he tugged his pants down low on his hip to give his feet some extra room, he couldn’t keep them from slipping back out into the cold. Curling his toes in the fabric didn’t do anything helpful either. Sweatpants weren’t made for this kind of thing – well, _these_ ones weren’t; these ones were made for lounging around in front of the TV while eating popcorn – they weren’t meant to be used like thermal underwear. The fabric was too soft to stay balled up for long. If he had been able to get his hands on some rubber bands or some string he could have tied the bottoms of his pant legs shut and made it work, but he had a feeling they weren’t going to let him get his hands on anything unless they wanted him to have it. He would have to suffer through this punishment without help.

It didn’t take long for his feet and fingers to go numb. He started shivering. He hugged himself tight, trying to draw his toes back into his sweat pants, but it was no use. They just wouldn’t stay. The shivers turned into shakes that tore through his body relentlessly; he could barely think with the sound of his chattering teeth echoing in his head. He had been cold before, but it had never been like _this_. Usually chattering teeth came during the winter, when there was a thick layer of snow on the ground. It had never been unpleasant – more an inconvenience. The cold have never felt this cruel. There had always been a layer of fabric between it and him back then; here there was nothing but the futon and the thin layer of fabric that was his shirt and pants. He was glad he had given up going commando months ago. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to handle his dick freezing off along with everything else.

He knew better than to fall asleep; he kept hearing Bruce’s voice telling him that if he drifted off, he might not wake up again. Sometimes, it was Pepper’s voice he heard, telling him to get up.

It was easier to stay awake than he expected. His guards seemed to be working a new routine, and with the way they kept turning the lights on and off in his room, it was hard to get comfortable, let alone to fall asleep for long. He started counting the intervals of darkness and light, mumbling the numbers under his breath. He hoped they thought they were driving him crazy; it would be easier if they thought they had broken him. The only problem with that was that it was getting harder to tell if he was just pretending.

 

 

The doors opened when the lights turned on again. This was number fifty seven. Tony sat up slowly, blinking, his eyes locked on the doorway. Were they going to beat him now? Was that what this had been about? Or were they just teasing him? He rocked back on his heels and hissed when he felt the air warming around him. His skin prickled unpleasantly at the newfound heat. He rubbed his toes, trying not to panic over how purple they looked under the bright lights.

The first guard walked in with Steve marching along in front of him, the kid’s small wrist clenched in his hand. He shoved Steve towards Tony and took up a spot against the wall, drawing his gun as the second guard slipped into the room through the open door. The new guard had two trays balanced in his arms, both of which were loaded up with food that was _steaming_ in the cold air. Tony’s mouth watered at the sight.

“Stay where you are, Stark,” the guard beside the wall said as Steve stumbled across the cold floor towards Tony. He gestured with his gun, his hand still far too rigid for comfort. “If you move, I shoot,”

Steve collapsed into Tony’s arms, burying his face in Tony’s icy shirt. He stiffened and pulled back, looking up at Tony with wide eyes. “You’re so _cold_ ,”

Tony smiled weakly. “Sorry. They decided to give me the freezer-burn treatment,” he said, through chattering teeth. “I’m alright. Hey there. How are you?” He felt along the nape of Steve’s neck, counting the new bandages mingling with the old; there were seven new patches of white gauze taped to Steve’s left arm, and three on his right leg, and he could tell by the way the fabric of Steve’s shirt was sticking out along his front that there were even more bandages lurking underneath. He patted at Steve’s shoulders, his fingers feeling more like stumps than fingers and winced as the kid’s warmth leeched through his fingertips. Steve felt like he was made out of _fire_.

Steve grabbed Tony’s hands and pressed them against his chest, curling forwards to capture them in his warmth.

Tony smiled at him, wiggling his fingers until Steve let out a giggle. “Thanks,”

The second guard set the trays of food down on the floor and backed away, moving as if he thought he might be slashed at. “You’d better eat up,” he said before disappearing through the door. The first guard gave them a brief nod and stepped out after him.

Tony lunged for the trays.

He scooped them up, afraid the floor was going to steal the food’s heat away and leapt back onto the futon, cursing the way his feet felt like they were made of thick rubber; the bowls and plates set out on the trays were hidden by a circular cover, shielded from the cold. He took them off, stacking them in a pile beside the futon and handed a tray to Steve, waiting patiently for the kid to take it from his hands before he let go, afraid he might drop it if he let go too soon. He sat down again, tucking his feet underneath him like a cat. He hadn’t had anything to eat in hours; the food looked so good, he worried that it might be a mirage. There was thick stew in a large round bowl and it was the _good_ kind, filled with gigantic lumps of potatoes and slices of meat, onions and carrots so thick they almost eclipsed the spoon. There were two warm-to-the-touch slices of bread with butter slathered on them sitting beside the stew on a plate. Tony sniffed at them, reveling in the smell of fresh bread.

The stew and bread weren’t even the best parts. There was a bowl of rice pudding for dessert, the bowl half the size of the stew bowl, and a mug of hot water. Beside it was a green paper packet. He picked the packet up and slipped the teabag free, sniffing at it. It was some kind of chamomile, he determined, and while he usually avoided tea in favor of coffee, he was eager to brew it up.

Steve watched him carefully and pulled his own teabag out, dunking it in the mug of hot water. “Is it good?” he asked.

Tony grinned and picked up his bowl of stew. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out,” he murmured. He groaned at the taste, and rolled his eyes when Steve laughed at him. “Just wait until you try it,” he teased. “You’ll be making stupid noises too, kiddo,”

They ate quickly, devouring everything on their trays before it could get cold; the tea was a little stronger than Tony would have liked when they remembered about it, but the warmth it brought to his chest made up for the slight miscalculation. He gave Steve half of his rice pudding and wrapped an arm around the kid while he ate it, sipping at his tea.

The room was warmer now, no longer the meat locker it had once been; he didn’t think he would _ever_ be comfortable here. This warmth wasn’t for his benefit. They had cranked the heat because it wasn’t _Steve_ they were trying to punish. The kid needed to be kept safe – _warm_ – and ready for more tests; it was a miracle they had decided to let the kid stay in here with him instead of keeping him locked up in a cell somewhere else. Tony swallowed down the last bitter mouthful of tea. This wasn’t a gift. Someone was planning something.

“Tony?”

Tony put his cup down on his tray and set it on the floor. Steve tapped Tony’s forearm, his fingers still warm, but no longer blisteringly hot.

“What?” Tony asked, giving Steve another soft smile. “Something wrong?”

“You’ve got bruises all over,” Steve said, tracing around the biggest bruise on Tony’s forearm with his finger.

“I know,” Tony said, shrugging. He didn’t want to make a big deal about it. The kid didn’t need to worry about him. “Oh well. What can you do?”

“I hate them,” Steve said, tucking himself under Tony’s arm. He pushed his empty tray onto the floor with his foot and moved closer, plastering himself against Tony’s side. “This place is awful,”

“Yeah,” Tony said, stroking Steve’s hair. “I know. But the others will find us. I know they will,”

“I hope they come soon,” Steve mumbled. He rested his cheek against Tony’s chest. “I don’t like that they hurt you,”

Tony chuckled. “I don’t like that they hurt _you_ , but I guess we’ve got to put up with it for now,”

“They took me back to that room again – the metal one with all the tables and the guys in white coats,” Steve said, tugging the back of his shirt closed. “They made me pee into a cup,”

Tony winced. “That’s rough,” he said, smoothing down Steve’s hair.

“They strapped me to the table because I kicked the first guy in the nuts,” Steve said, proudly.

Tony snorted. “I’m sure they appreciated _that_ ,” he said with a smirk. “Good boy,”

Steve wrapped an arm around Tony’s middle. “I don’t like bullies,” he said, his voice turning soft. “Why do people have to be so mean? What did we ever do to them?”

“I don’t think it was something we did,” Tony said, fixing the back of Steve’s shirt when he saw that it had opened up again. “These people aren’t normal – they’re after the serum and they don’t care how they get it,” he said. “I know you want to kick them, and that’s good – you _should_ want to kick them in the nuts, but be careful, alright? They might not be so gentle with you next time.” He hated that it was _him_ having to say these words. He hated that Steve had to hear this from _anyone_ at all, but there was no one else who _could_ say them. He glared at the bandages he could see through the slit in the back of Steve’s gown. They had taken samples here too, tearing and poking and prodding to get what they wanted. When he got his hands on the people hurting Steve, he was going to give _them_ a kick to the nuts too. No one was allowed to hurt Steve – _no one_.

 

 

The night went by swiftly, aided by Steve’s warmth. Tony woke when the door opened and helped Steve through breakfast, sharing his food again to make sure that the kid got enough to keep him going for the rest of the day. When the guards returned and hauled Steve away again, Tony earned himself a brand new black eye; he hadn’t though it was such a big deal to ask when Steve would be coming back, but apparently it had been akin to telling the guards that they had tiny, _tiny_ penises. His face was sore through most of the morning.

 

An hour after what would have been lunch time, the door opened again and Tony found himself face to face with the same guard who had so kindly slammed his fist into his face. He smiled cheekily at the guy, unable to help himself. “Back for round two?”

The guard knocked Tony to the ground and jammed his knee in Tony’s back. “You’re lucky, Stark,” he said, as he pulled a pair of handcuffs off of his belt. “The big guy wants to see you,”

“And that’s _lucky_?” Tony grunted into the floor. His shoulders protested as he was yanked onto his knees by his arm. “Hey – didn’t your mother ever teach you not to manhandle people?”

“Shut your mouth. I’ve got things to do, Stark. Your room needs cleaning, and you need delivering,” The guard muttered.

Once Tony was upright and unlikely to tip over, the guard pushed him out the door, guiding him by his arms. The corridor outside Tony’s cell was wide, cement and sterile; he could smell floor cleaner in the air. He wondered what had been cleaned up. Was it blood? Puke? It certainly didn’t look like anyone had passed through these halls, but maybe there were more people waiting in the other cells they walked past.

They met up with the second guard a few feet away and turned the corner, making their way through another empty corridor. Everything was clean here; there was no litter, no refuse from someone’s lunch. Either the maintenance was automated, or Hydra had some very zealous individuals working in their janitorial department.

Tony counted his steps as he walked, memorizing the twists and turns they made as they traveled. There were doors every few feet, sealing one area off from another; he didn’t like the look of them. They were made of smooth, seamless metal and opened and closed with keycards; he wasn’t going to be running out of here any time soon, not unless there was some kind of master key lying around.

The rooms they passed were eclectic in their use, arranged in a way that seemed _almost_ random to Tony. Some held hospital beds, some had equipment and boxes in them. Most of it seemed useless, but Tony knew there was a reason for all of it, even if he couldn’t see it yet.

Where could they be?

Personnel here was sparse, and the facility seemed huge. Something like this couldn’t stay hidden for long – could it? The equipment he could see was new, stuff that hadn’t been on the market for long, so obviously the owner had a sizeable pocketbook. It wasn’t the best stuff around, but it wasn’t exactly made out of playdough and toothpicks either. Someone had to know about it – someone had to be funding it – and funds could always be traced. Jarvis would find them, he thought with a smile. Jarvis was the best at tracking finances.

They turned yet another corner and guard one whipped out his keycard again, blipping them through the security doors.

Tony reeled back, gagging. The smell of antiseptics was sharp, mixed with a hint of lemon scented soap. The guards pushed him into the hallway and turned him again, shoving him to get him to walk faster. His toes had defrosted as he had walked, the pins and needles cleared free, but it was still hard to move the way they wanted him to without tripping on his own feet. Tony scanned the hall, trying to guess where they were taking him; panic bubbled up, almost dethroning his calm. There were no numbers on the doors, no signage on the walls. Could they be bringing him for execution? Or was this an interrogation?

He stumbled, nearly running head first into guard number one’s broad back. The laboratory before him was large enough to fit a few dozen scientists and researchers comfortably; this wasn’t a research room – at least not from what he could see. This was some kind of examination room – somewhere to collect samples, judging by the empty canisters sitting out on the countertops. Every table was made of steel and it was all polished so intensely, it seemed to gleam. Was that what he was here for? Were they going to take samples from _him_? It wasn’t like he had anything to offer them. He wasn’t super human – he wasn’t Steve.

“We’re here,” the first guard said, pushing open the lab’s doors. He stepped inside and dragged Tony over to the largest examination table. “Bend over,” he said.

“Can’t you at least buy me dinner first?” Tony asked. The second guard shoved him from behind; he slammed face-first into the steel table and lay there, prostrate and winded as the guards yanked the handcuff off of his left hand. They hooked it around the steel table leg and left, their footsteps echoing through the empty room.

Tony straightened up and gave the handcuffs an experimental tug. He grimaced as they dug into his wrist. The table was bolted the floor. He hadn’t expected it to be loose per say, but it would have been nice if it had at least moved a _little_. He sighed and looked around the room again, trying to see if anyone had left something out he could use.

“Mr. Stark,” a voice rumbled from behind him. Tony jumped and whirled, yanking on his handcuffs in his haste to see who it was; his wrist throbbed bitterly as the metal slammed against bone. He lowered his arm and forced his body to relax, putting on his most charming smile.

The man who walked into the room was someone Tony had only ever seen in pictures, and most of those had been blurry and black and white. Johann Schmidt wasn’t easy on the eyes; maybe in his youth he had been young and handsome, but there was nothing left of the man he had once been. He was dressed in a tailored suit of navy blue and a cream coloured collared shirt; his skin stood out a deep, garish, maroon against the cream. The failed super serum that flowed through his veins had transformed him into the Red Skull, a monster masquerading as a man. His nose was gone, now nothing more than two blackened holes where his nostrils had once been; his brow was large and protruding, lacking flesh in a way that made it seem like everything that had once been there had been carved off of him with a knife. He was a tall man, closer to Steve’s height; Tony had to crane his neck to look him in the eye. The Skull walked stiffly towards Tony, his hands held behind his back and _smiled_ at him.

Tony forced himself to smile back.

“I see you have been enjoying my hospitality,” the Skull said, looking Tony over. He paused when he saw Tony’s feet and smiled harder, baring his teeth. “You still have toes. How… _quaint_ ,”

Tony shrugged. He tested the handcuffs again, trying not to rattle them. “I take it you’re running Hydra these days, huh?”

The Skull’s lips quirked down at the sides. “Indeed I am, Mr. Stark,”

“I was going to ask who I had to complain to about the whole kidnapping thing, but I guess that’s you,” Tony said, leaning his hip against the table. He tried to shove it, but it wouldn’t budge.

The Skull chuckled. “Come now, Mr. Stark,” he said, “Must you try to escape while we’re talking? That’s a little rude, don’t you think?”

“Rude?” Tony snorted. “You’ve got my friends locked up here and you’re carving bits of skin off my Steve – off Steve. You’re the one being rude, pal,”

The Skull threw back his head and laughed, baring his white teeth again. “You Americans are so full of yourselves! They told me that you would be good for a laugh, and I see that they were right,” he said, shaking his head, “I should dress you in motely,”

“Yeah,” Tony said through gritted teeth. “ _Great_ joke,”

The Skull reached into his pocket and produced a handcuff key. “It occurs to me that you do not fully understand why you are here, Mr. Stark,” he said. “Perhaps this is something we should _remedy_.” He tossed the key to Tony.

Tony caught it one handed and held it cradled against his chest. “I don’t get it,” he said. “You brought me out here to tell me something – you don’t need to take off the handcuffs to do that,”

“I wish to take you on a _tour_ ,” the Skull said, with a smirk. “I can’t do that if you are cuffed to a table. Surely, even you can understand that,”

“Yeah,” Tony muttered, shoving the key into the lock on the handcuff. “I get that. What I don’t get is why you had to have your lackeys drag me here in handcuffs in the first place.”

“All good games, Mr. Stark, start slowly. It is far easier to explain things if you see them with your own eyes,” the Skull said. He turned when he heard the handcuffs hit the floor and stalked towards the door he had come out of, his hands still clasped behind his back. “Come along. Time is money, as you Americans say,”

Tony moved carefully; the floor was slick here, covered in a thin layer of wax, and he didn’t want to look weak in front of the Skull – not here, not when they were so close. _Creatures_ like the Skull thought with their fists, and if he looked like he was someone that could be swayed with a brutal beating, then that would be what he got.

The room they entered next was warmer. The scientists here were busy at work, dressed in long, blue-green lab coats. Their workspaces were a mess; if this had been a sanctioned lab, it would have been shut down and set for decontamination. There were health code violations here – workplace safety violations – chemical hazards – you name it. Tony saw vials and beakers sitting out on tables, crusty with use. No one was using gloves, and some of the people here looked like they were handing blood in used syringes. Tony shifted nervously, keeping an eye on the floor beneath his feet. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find something sharp lying there, broken and ignored. Please let this not be where they had taken Steve, he prayed.

“I won’t bore you with the details,” the Skull drawled, leading Tony through the lab and into another.

Tony kept up, avoiding piles of metal shavings lying in his path. He stayed close enough to hear the Skull, but not so close as to be within range of his hands; he knew the space wouldn’t save him, but at least this way he didn’t have to see the Skull’s warped features so clearly.

The next room was one Tony had seen before; he had thought it was impossible to recreate the equipment Erskine had used for his Super Soldier Serum project, but here it was, set out neatly with everything placed right where it had been in those faded black and white photographs he had seen in Howard’s notes all those years ago. From wall to wall the place was immaculate, a far different state than the previous room. Someone had gone over every last inch of floor space here, sweeping away dust and grime so that it all looked brand new, like it had come straight off the assembly line. Was this the game? Was this a lie, built by the Skull to trick him into revealing something? Tony stepped inside, peering at everything as though he hadn’t ever see it before, feigning surprise. It couldn’t hurt to play the fool – the Skull clearly already thought he was one.

The Skull wasn’t amused. He grabbed Tony by the back of the neck and dragged him over to the steel gurney in the middle of the room, the one thing that _hadn’t_ been in the pictures, and slammed Tony into it so hard the metal buckle. Tony gasped, the air torn from his lungs and lay sprawled there, trying not to move in case he made the Skull even angrier.

“ _You_ know what this place is – what this equipment is for, Stark,” The Skull hissed in Tony’s ear. His breath was hot and sticky, smelling of sardines and garlic. Tony wrinkled his nose and kept his head down.

“You can’t blame a guy for trying,” Tony said, mumbling his words into the metal table.

The Skull sighed into Tony’s ear, his hand still heavy on Tony’s shoulder as though it was there to offer comfort instead of agony. “You know how I was created – I know your pathetic SHIELD has that information in its files,”

“Yes,” Tony murmured, trying not to gag as pain lanced its way through his torso. He was going to have a full body bruise after this; it would be a miracle if he didn’t. “I know all about how you were created. Lab accident gone right, _right_?”

The Skull snorted. “Hardly. If it had gone the way it was meant to go, I would have my own face, Stark, I wouldn’t have _this_ one. It is fearsome, granted, but it’s not so easy to travel with – at least not unless I’m going to one of those Halloween parties you Americans are so fond of,”

“I get what you mean,” Tony grunted, as the Skull’s weight pressed down on him again. He could feel the Skull’s belt buckle digging into the small of his back.

“Abraham Erskine was a traitor – he should have finished what he started, but he chose instead to butcher his serum when he tested it for the Reich,”

“That’s one word for it,” Tony muttered under his breath. He would have used the word _sabotaged_ , but that was just him. He winced as the Skull’s hand pushed him into the table again.

“Erskine made me what I am, Stark,” the Skull hissed. “Make no mistake – his treachery, his _trickery_ , is something I will never forget nor forgive. I want the serum’s secrets – I want its true form – I want _success_ ,”

“And you think I’ve got some idea of how to go about that?” Tony wheezed into the table. The metal fogged from his breath. “Because I’ve got to be blunt with you here – I don’t know any more about the serum than you do,”

“Lies,” the Skull snapped. He pushed Tony’s cheek into the table, his hand moving to the back of Tony’s neck. “You had access to your father’s files – to _SHIELD’s_ files. You know the serum’s secrets better than half the men under my command. Your Doctor Banner knows even more, so do not lie to me and tell me that you know nothing about it,”

“I’m an _engineer_ ,” Tony gasped, sucking in a laborious breath. His lungs burned, the blaze growing worse with each new strangled breath he took in. “I’m not a biologist,”

“You’ve done something to Captain Rogers,” The Skull said, leaning heavily against Tony’s hip. “It does not take a biologist to do _that_ ,”

“I didn’t do anything to Steve,” Tony squeaked, clawing at the table. “I didn’t – no one on my team did anything to him,”

“Oh?” The Skull lifted his hand, and stepped back.

Tony sucked in a precious breath. The buckle on the Skull’s belt had bitten into the flesh above his hip and had left behind an angry red welt. He rubbed at it but didn’t make another move in case the Skull decided to smash him into the table again just for the hell of it. “Look, I get why you would think that we had something to do with it, but it wasn’t us. We didn’t do this to him – he was shot with something. The gun did all the real work. We couldn’t find it after, and we looked, believe me we looked – _we_ didn’t do anything to Steve,”

“I _see_ ,” the Skull murmured. “I am _disappointed_ in you, Stark. I expected a better excuse,” he said, stepping away from the table. He snapped his fingers and the guard that had brought Tony in came slinking in through a hidden side door. “Take Mr. Stark back to his freshly cleaned room and let him think about why it is a bad idea to tell me lies,”

“I _didn’t_ lie –” Tony said. He hit the table with a grunt and lay flat on his stomach as the guard wrangled his arms behind his back again; he didn’t fight it. There wasn’t much point, not with a super human madman standing nearby. He felt the handcuffs slip around his wrists and heard them click in place. “Why would I lie?” he grunted. “Why would I want to turn Captain America into a child?”

The guard hauled Tony up and dragged him out of the room, leading him by his arms again like he was a stubborn mule headed to market. Tony turned, almost wrenching his shoulder out of his socket in the process. “What would be the point in lying about that?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps you wish to keep your secrets.” The Skull smiled. “Perhaps you think it will keep you _alive_. That is _your_ problem, Mr. Stark – not mine. Use your time to reflect on your situation,” he chuckled.

 

 

Tony hit the floor in his cell hard and lay there, shivering in the cold with his hands still handcuffed behind his back. He heard guard’s retreating footsteps and then the door behind him shut with a swish. He groaned into the floor. “You forgot the _cuffs_ ,” he yelled, even though he knew they weren’t going to come back. He managed to lift his chest up off the cold floor. They could have at least dropped him onto the futon, he through with a grumble. He turned to crawl towards it and froze, hunched over, balanced on his knees with his arms trapped behind his back.

The futon was gone.

 _Shit_.

When they had said they were going to clean the place up, he hadn’t thought they were going to remove anything. The room stank of disinfectant and the same disgusting lemon soap he had smelled in the hallway; his toilet bucket sat in the corner of the room, blessedly clean, the last remaining comfort. He sighed and rolled over onto his side, trying to stretch his sore shoulders. At this rate, he was going to freeze to death before the other Avengers found him.

His breath was visible in the air.

Fabulous.

He wormed his way across the floor towards the middle of the room. He didn’t want to be punished for being in the way when the guards came back. If he was good, they might bring him _food_ ; they might take the handcuffs away.

He chuckled aloud, and closed his eyes.

So the Red Skull though the Avengers had something to do with Steve’s transformation. That was… _weird_. Where the hell had Hydra gotten _that_ idea from? Did the Avengers Initiative really seem like they were the kind of group that would _torture_ Captain America just to get at the serum? It didn’t really make sense, but then again _he_ wasn’t the crazy guy with a red skull for a face, so it wasn’t like he could _really_ follow that particular train of thought.

Tony shifted against the floor, easing the weight off of his shoulders. He would have rolled onto his belly, but lying that way for too long would make it hard to breath; the arc reactor had never been very comfortable to begin with, and it didn’t like being _inconvenienced_ with extra weight. He missed the days when he could pass out on his stomach; at least then he wouldn’t have had to worry about reborn Nazi super humans and aliens. He would never in a million years have thought that those would be the good old days.

Why did the Skull think he was lying?

Was it because of the press? Was it something he had said out in public?

Had the Skull seen something on the news and assumed that Iron Man hated Steve enough to want to strip him of his powers? It seemed wrong to think that anyone would think he could hate Steve.

Was it something Bucky had said to the Skull?

Could _that_ be it?

Had Bucky whispered in the Skull’s ear?

If he had, that would explain things. After all, it wasn’t like assassins were known for their honesty, and this might just still be a job to him. The Winter Soldier had been programmed to gather intelligence, just like Natasha, and if he had been getting it by leafing through magazines and scanning security footage, there was no telling what the guy might think of them. Maybe the bastard had found out about their argument about that fucking _bagel_ and just plain old assumed they hated each other. Tony scowled. That particular fight had been _bad_ , even by his standards. There had been a lot of gesturing and screaming, and if the cameras had caught it from a certain angle… well, it wouldn’t have looked good. SHIELD certainly hadn’t appreciated it. Of course this _could_ just be the Skull’s twisted mind making things up. It might not be anyone’s fault at all. It wasn’t like the Skull was playing with a full deck.

Either way, he was in trouble. If the Skull was convinced he was lying through his teeth about everything, there wasn’t much he could do to convince the guy that he hadn’t had anything to do with Steve’s mysterious de-aging. Well, he thought with a sigh, at least he now had definitive proof that Hydra hadn’t had a hand in what had happened to Steve. He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved by that or not.

 

 

Tony’s stomach growled for the ninth time that minute. He had been lying on his side for hours now, and the ache in his shoulder felt like it was permanent. He could feel the muscles in his back getting ready to Charlie horse; it was only a matter of time before they rebelled, and tormented him with their displeasure. He rolled onto his stomach for a moment, trying to sooth his sore muscles, but it didn’t do anything other than freeze his groin and thighs a little bit more. He was already numb all over – _again_ ; he hadn’t felt his toes in what felt like days, and although he knew they were still there, he still wondered if they had up and left without him.

The door opened.

He didn’t bother lifting his head. If they wanted to get his attention they could lift it up for him. He didn’t have the energy to waste on guards.

“Stark?”

The guard kicked out, his boot striking Tony right in the thigh. The muscles in Tony’s leg clenched on contact, and he let out a blood curdling scream, curling himself into a ball; with his hands still trapped behind his back, there was nothing he could do to ease the pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, blinking through tears and waited for the Charlie horse to pass. It felt like his muscles were being plucked from his bone with tongs; pain radiated from the centre of his thigh, flaring bright and sharp. He breathed in sharply through his nose.

“I guess that means you’re awake,” the guard chuckled. He looped an arm under Tony’s armpit and dragged Tony towards the door, not bothering to let him get up. “Get the doors, will you?” the guard called over his shoulder to someone outside.

Tony’s vision blurred; he watched as the hallways zoomed past, feeling every last inch of the floor as his body was dragged across it. His sweatpants slipped dangerously low on his hip. “You know,” he mumbled as his skin throbbed from contact with the cement, “I wouldn’t mind keeping my pants _on_ for this visit,”

The guard dragging him slowed. “Christ,” he grumbled, “You’re a lot of trouble, you know that Stark?”

“I aim to please,” Tony slurred as the guard yanked his pants back up. “You know, you wouldn’t have to pull my pants up if you let me _walk_ – a novel idea, I know,”

“If I let you walk,” the guard said, dragging Tony along the floor again, “then it would take forever to get you to the boss, and I don’t know about you, but I have no intention of getting my head caved in because you took too long hobbling down the hallway,”

“Fair enough,” Tony muttered. He lifted his hips off the ground, grimacing as the pain in his shoulder grew in strength. It was almost unbearable, but at least he didn’t have to worry about his sweatpants trailing along on the floor around his ankles, although how long that would last wasn’t clear. He got the distinct impression that the guard was going to get tired of hauling his pants back up pretty damn fast and he didn’t want to lose the skin on bare legs to the icy floor when _that_ happened.

At least the trip was quick.

Someone was opening the doors ahead of them, so it was smooth sailing until they got to their destination.

The guard dumped Tony on the floor in a heap and retreated, vanishing from sight, leaving him to stare blearily up at the florescent lights embedded in the ceiling. Tony recognized where he was even though he hadn’t seen most of the trip. It was all rights and lefts, doors and locks, stops and starts; he was good with those kinds of details, and he didn’t have to see the Skull to know that he was back in the replica of Erskine’s test room.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was a whisper.

Tony jerked his head up off the floor and locked eyes with Steve from across the room. The kid was strapped to an upright metal gurney, secured with thick leather straps around his middle, ankles and wrists. Anger flared in Tony’s gut. “Steve?” He pushed himself upright using his elbows and inched forwards, trying to get to Steve’s side.

Steve struggled in his restraints, trying to get free. His face was pale and sweaty, his hair sticking up against his forehead in golden spikes. “Tony? What’s going on?”

Tony rolled himself over and pushed himself up from his knees, looking for the guards. This had to be a trap. They couldn’t have just decided on a whim to leave him alone with Steve – not after the Skull’s little speech. The room, however, was empty, cleared of pretty much everything except for Steve and a clipboard left on the steel table in the middle of the room. It looked safe, but was it really? There was only one way to know. Tony took a deep breath and stepped towards Steve. He didn’t get far.

“I see you’re enjoying my hospitality _again_ , Mr. Stark,” the Skull’s voice hissed in Tony’s ear.

Tony jumped but didn’t turn; he could feel the Skull’s breathe, hot and heady, stinking of sardines, against the back of his neck. He didn’t need to look to know where the bastard was. He could practically feel him even though they weren’t touching. “Yeah, your hospitality’s a real _treat_ ,” Tony muttered, his eyes locked on Steve.

The Skull grabbed Tony by the back of the neck; his hand was like a branding iron. Tony flinched, a whimper leaving his lips before he could stifle it. The serum must have made the Skull run extra hot, because there was no way this was normal.

“I have a question for you,” the Skull murmured, maneuvering Tony closer to Steve.

Steve’s eyes widened until they seemed almost comically wide. He started crying and fighting against the restraints, desperate to be free, terrified by what he was seeing. His bare lower legs squealed across the smooth metal as he squirmed in place. Tony tried to smile at the kid, wanting to offer some kind of reassurance, but Steve wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were locked on the Skull’s face.

“NO!” Steve whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. His knees knocked together; he trembled, shaking his head from side to side. “Don’t! Go away! It’s not real – it’s not real – it’s not _real_ ,”

“It’s ok, Steve,” Tony whispered.

The Skull’s hand tightened on the back of Tony’s neck. “Oh Mr. Stark,” he laughed, his grip vicelike, “You’re so sweet to try and convince him I’m not scary. If you live long enough, you might make a wonderful father someday,”

Steve’s gown went dark green at the crotch; a trickle of urine slid down the metal gurney, pooling on the floor.

“Oh, _look_ ,” the Skull sneered, “He’s _pissed_ himself. He’s not very brave, is he? Are we sure this is really Steve Rogers? Perhaps you replaced him with a weakling – a _baby_ ,”

Steve turned his head to the side and closed his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. Tony’s heart felt like it was breaking. He wanted to gather Steve up in his arms and hide him away, but the Skull had other plans.

The Skull picked up the clipboard and glanced at it before throwing it away, a scowl darkening his already grim features.

“Leave him alone,” Tony growled, twisting in the Skull’s grasp.

“I asked you before if you had anything to do with Captain Roger’s current predicament,” the Skull said, pushing Tony closer to Steve until they were face to face, separated by mere inches. “This is what you’ve done – this is your fault for lying to me,”

“I’m _not_ lying,” Tony snapped. The Skull’s fingers dug into the back of his neck so deeply Tony was afraid his neck might snap.

“ _Look_ at him,” the Skull snarled. “ _Look_ at what you’ve done to him!”

“I didn’t do _anything_ ,” Tony insisted, looking Steve dead in the eye. “How many times do I have to say it? He was shot by a guy with a gun – one we don’t have the specs for! We couldn’t find it or the guy who shot him – and we sure as hell didn’t make it, _or_ orchestrate it!”

The Skull pushed Tony forwards until his face was pressed up against the metal gurney beside Steve’s cheek. He leaned his full weight against Tony’s shoulder, crushing Tony until he couldn’t breathe; the arc reactor clinked against the gurney as Tony scrambled to keep the pressure on his ribs from building.

“I love Steve,” Tony gasped, struggling for breathe. “Why the _fuck_ would I hurt him?”

The Skull’s hand left Tony’s neck; his weight pulled back, and Tony tipped forwards, his shoulders bumping against the metal gurney.

“I see,” the Skull drawled. “So you take _no_ responsibility whatsoever,” he said as he reached out to touch Steve’s face, his grotesque smile growing larger.

Tony knew he had made a mistake; he shouldn’t have said anything about _love_ , even if he did feel it in his heart, but there was no taking it back now. He moved, ignoring his mistake, shoving himself in between the Skull and Steve, his unprotected neck and back left to the Skull’s mercy. He couldn’t stand the thought of the Skull touching Steve – not now, and not _ever_. He closed his eyes, his cheek resting against Steve’s and waited for his punishment.

It didn’t come.

Tony opened his eyes and turned, using his body to block the Skull from Steve’s sight. If this was the last thing he could to do help Steve, then this was what he would do. He stood his ground, trying to make himself as big as possible.

The Skull laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re a brave man. That will make things so much _easier_ ,” he said. He snapped his fingers and the guards appeared from behind him, as though they had crawled their way out from his shadow. “Take the boy and Mr. Stark to the showers and get them cleaned up. I can’t stand the smell of piss,”

Tony swallowed hard, trying not to flinch at the mention of water; he hoped the Skull didn’t know what it might do to him. No one but the Avengers had known and he hoped it would stay that way. If the Skull found out… well, he didn’t even want to think about it. He put on a brave face, cracking a smile so that no one would notice the way he had started sweating. He turned to Steve, trying to catch the kid’s eye, but Steve wouldn’t look at him. The kid turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut while the guards undid the straps, shrinking away from their touch.

“It’s ok, buddy,” Tony said, making his voice as soothing as possible. “It’s ok. We’ll take care of it.” He could smell urine even from this distance, and he knew how unpleasant it was to be trapped in wet clothing. He stood stock still as the guards moved around him to free Steve, staying close to the kid but not too close to be seen as a threat. Once free, Steve grabbed a hold of Tony’s leg and didn’t let go. Tony couldn’t blame him. If he had been the one laying eyes on the Red Skull’s ugly mug for the first time, as a child no less, he was pretty sure he would have wet himself too. Hell, he would have been lying if he said he hadn’t been worried about losing control of his bladder when the Skull had had his hand on the back of his neck. He winced when one of the guards grabbed him by the arm and let himself be dragged towards the hallway with Steve hobbling along beside him.

 

 

The showers were large enough to fit thirty or forty people comfortably, and they all looked well-used. The tiles were a greyish white, grouted with dull, pinkish grime, and while nothing was rusted over, Tony could tell that the place hadn’t been used until recently. He stumbled along with Steve at his side, rubbing at his raw wrists. The guards had taken away the cuffs, but his shoulders still hadn’t accepted that they didn’t have to protest his every move.

The guards herded them to twin stalls in the middle of the room and then stepped back, seemingly unwilling to get any closer to them than necessary; the stalls were stocked with soap and shampoo, the cheap kind that would sting your eyes if you made the mistake of using it too freely. Tony was glad that he didn’t have to ask them for anything. He stripped down quickly, shedding his soiled clothing. He shivered as he folded his shirt and pants into a neat pile, eyeing the showerhead with growing trepidation. He glanced around, hoping to find the guards inattentive and saw that they were watching him. “Fuckers,” he muttered under his breath.

Well, it was now or never.

With a sigh, he turned the water on while he was still outside the direct spray. Trying not to be too obvious about it, he lifted up his arm, closed one eye and shoved his hand under the showerhead. The water was _warm_ ; that startled him. He had expected it to be cold, and brownish, but it seemed that someone had come through here and flushed the lines out. He pulled his arm free, feeling giddy with relief, and peeked over the top of the divider beside him to see if Steve was doing alright. The kid was standing in his shower stall, still fully dressed, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle; he was staring blankly down at his toes.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony said, hanging his arms over the divider. “Are you ok?”

Steve shook his head. He wiped his eyes on the back of his wrist and looked down at his soiled pants; tears welled up in his eyes again.

“Hey,” Tony said. He motioned for Steve to move closer, and blessedly the kid did. He carded his fingers through Steve’s hair. “It’s ok. You were really brave in there, Steve,”

“No I _wasn’t_ ,” Steve sniffled, wiping his nose on his arm again. “I _peed_ myself like a baby,”

Tony smiled softly. “It’s not that big of a deal,” he said, rubbing his thumb over Steve’s forehead. “I was going to pee myself too, but I didn’t have any left,”

Steve looked up at him, sniffling. “Really?”

“Yep,” Tony said, smoothing down Steve’s hair. “He’s a really scary guy, kiddo. _Anyone_ would have peed themselves if they saw him,”

Steve sighed, hanging his head. “I feel sticky,”

“Well, that’s pretty easy to fix,” Tony said, resting his chin on the divider. “Just take a shower,”

Steve eyed the shower as if it had teeth. “Do I have to?”

“It’s probably a good idea,” Tony chuckled. “Unless you want to _stay_ sticky,”

Steve sighed. “But what am I going to wear after? I don’t have any other clothes,”

Tony pulled away from the divider, turning to the guards. “Hey – are you guys going to bring us some clean clothes? Or are we going to wander around dripping wet and naked when we’re done here?”

The guard on the left scowled at him, holstering his gun. “We’ve got some clean stuff for both of you, so just get on with it. You’ll get it when you’re done.”

Tony gave the guard a lazy salute and turned back to Steve instead of his shower. “Ok? We’ve got clean clothing now, so don’t worry about it,”

Steve nodded and turned to face the showerhead, glaring at it.

“Do you need any help with that?” Tony asked, grabbing his damp boxers from the floor in case he needed to head over to Steve’s stall.

“No,” Steve said, sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. “I can do it,”

“Alright,” Tony said. He dropped his boxers back onto the floor and stepped closer to the shower, nimbly avoiding a spurt of hot water as it exploded from the showerhead. It was hard to believe that the Skull had given them a comfortable bathroom, all things considered. He had expected an ice bath, but this wasn’t bad – even if it _was_ a shower. He sighed and gathered his courage. He could do this. This might be the only shower he got for a long time, and he kind of _liked_ not smelling awful. He ducked under the spray and reached blindly for the yellow bar of soap. It slipped free from his fingers and hit the ground with a soft thump, sliding sullenly towards the drain. “Great,” he muttered, stooping to find it. He opened his eyes a crack and got a face full of spray. He spat the water out, clamping down on his growing discomfort before it could get away from him and make him do something stupid. Now was not the time to have a panic attack – not with Steve so close – not here. He needed to be strong now – he needed to stay calm.

“What happened?” Steve asked, his fingers appearing up on the top of the divider. He was too short to actually see over top of it, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He was probably pressed up against it, standing on the tips of his toes.

Tony chuckled. “It’s ok. I just dropped the soap,” he said. He paused, and turned to glance at the guards, wondering if they had been listening. When they didn’t so much as blink in his direction, he sighed loudly and started rubbing himself down with the soap. “ _Jeeze_ ,” he grumbled, “Can’t even get a _laugh_ anymore. This place sucks,”

Steve’s fingers disappeared from on top of the divider. “You’re weird,”

“Don’t I know it,” Tony sang, scrubbing at his belly with soapy hands. He hadn’t had the chance to take a look at himself in a long time, not with how cold everything had been. His skin was peppered with bruises and scrapes, a patchwork landscape of injuries old and new. It stung when the water hit him, but at least the cold was mostly gone now. He examined his torso, feeling along his ribs to see if it was worse than it looked. There was a lovely boot print shaped bruise just above his hip; it felt tender, and was a delightful shade of blackish-blue, but it could have been worse. Nothing felt broken. He went back to scrubbing grime off of his belly.

He never had been very good at estimating damage done to his body. Bruce had given him more than one physical that had ended with him finding injuries Tony hadn’t even known about until well after the fact; it was always eventful, if not a bit frightening. He did, however, know how to locate broken bones, and thankfully everything seemed fine – he was bruised up, but fine. His shoulders might be aching, but that would go away in time. He scrubbed at his beard with a handful of soap suds and worked the grease free with slow, carefully movements. His beard had grown longer in the last few weeks, and was more scraggly than tidy these days; he was going to have to get someone to trim it for him when they got the hell out of here. He wasn’t so sure he could do it himself anymore. The thought of looking into a mirror still made his stomach twist, and holding a razor up to his skin seemed dangerous considering how badly his hands shook when he was near running water.

He rinsed his chin off with a wet hand, not trusting himself to stay calm if he tried to get rid of it with the shower spray, and grabbed the clear bottle of shampoo, a lavender scented disaster waiting to happen. He poured it into his hand, scrubbing it into his hair before he could change his mind about it. He might smell like potpourri, but at least his hair wouldn’t be slimy.

“Tony?” Steve called out from his stall, his voice slightly muffled by the sound of the spray hitting the floor.

“Yeah?” Tony rinsed his hair out with handfuls of water, wincing as a blob of shampoo suds slide down his nose and into his eyes.

“I don’t like it here,” Steve said quietly, his voice echoing off the tiles despite his attempt at being quiet.

“Same here, kiddo,” Tony said, dumping another handful of water on his hair. “The room service here sucks,”

Steve giggled. “They don’t _have_ room service,”

“Yeah, yeah. You live in your world, and I’ll live in mine,” Tony said with a laugh.

“I want to go back to the beach house,” Steve grumbled. “I _liked_ it there. I want to see Mabel.”

“I want to see her too,” Tony said.

“Do you think she’s ok?”

“I don’t know, kiddo, I don’t know,” Tony said. He dumped another handful of hot water into his hair and rubbed the last of the shampoo out. “Jarvis will make sure she’s taken care of. He knows I want him to keep an eye on her,”

“Can we go back there after?”

“You really like the place, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s really neat. I think I like it better than home,” Steve admitted. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think her owner would let us visit?” Steve asked, his voice turning timid.

Tony leaned back against the divider, flicking bubbles from his shoulders. He didn’t really know the woman who owned the beach houses they had rented, but she had seemed like a nice little old lady – the kind who had a thousand cats and ate hard candy by the pound. She probably wouldn’t have a problem with Steve coming to visit. She had a few grandkids, if the pictures on her mantle had been anything to go by, and she had seemed to like having them around. Yes, she would let them visit. And if she wouldn’t, well, he had toyed with the idea of buying the place off of her already, if only to keep it from being snapped up by an unscrupulous developer. The place _was_ beautiful, or at least it had been before everything had happened, and he could see it bought up and bulldozed if someone else took a shine to it. Fuck it. He would buy the damn place. He wanted Steve to have something to remember from their time there. It seemed unfair for the kid to have to give those good times up too. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, putting the bar of yellow soap back into the soap dish. “Tell you what. I’ll put an offer in on the place. Maybe she’ll let me buy it from her,”

“You can do that?” Steve asked, his fingers reappearing on top of the divider.

Tony chuckled at the sight. “Of _course_ I can do that,” he snorted. “I’ll buy the entire place if I have to. We can make it the Avengers summer home or something – Steve’ll – _you’ll_ ,” he corrected himself hastily, “love it when I’m done with it. The rest of the guys will probably like it too, but who cares about them. We can knock the old buildings down and upgrade them,”

“Oh,” Steve said, his fingers wiggling on the divider.

“Or we can leave a few the way they are,” Tony said with a smile. “I think Mabel will like that a little bit better. I don’t think she’ll enjoy a construction team stomping around her turf,”

“She’ll tear up their ankles,” Steve said.

“We’ll be lucky if that’s _all_ she’ll do,” Tony chuckled.

“Hey,” the guard on the left growled. “Hurry it up in there,”

Tony rinsed the soap off of his hand. “Alright, alright. I’m done,”

“Me too,” Steve said, letting go of the divider. “Can we have a towel, please?”

“And clothing?” Tony asked, leaning against the divider. He batted his eyelashes at them. “Clothing would be awesome too.”

“Turn around and face the showers,” the guard on the right muttered.

Tony turned as instructed, keeping his eyes fixed on the showerhead. He didn’t like that the guards were approaching from behind while he was naked and defenseless, but there wasn’t much he could do about it unless he wanted a boot in his groin. He heard the sound of fabric rustling behind him and jumped when something soft hit him between the shoulder blades. He looked down and saw a towel lying beside his foot; he snatched it up before it could soak up all the water and wrapped it around his waist. He chanced a look over the divider and snorted. The guard had dropped a towel on top of Steve’s head; it wasn’t on the floor, but Steve couldn’t see anything.

Plastic crinkled behind him. He waited until he felt whatever it was hit him in the back. The guard’s footsteps echoed into the distance.

“Get dressed,” the guard said when he was back in place.

Tony stooped down, picking up the package that had hit him and tore it open. The plastic bag held a set of light blue scrubs, a pair of pants and some clean, white, BVD’s. All of it was a size too big, but that didn’t bother him. At least he would have space for his hands and feet when they decided to try and freeze him again; he knew they were going to do it again, the question was more a when than an if. He pulled the clothing, yanking the long shirt over his head before the guards could take it away. For now he was determined to enjoy being warm.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was muffled.

Tony stepped up to the divider and peered over. Steve’s hands were held up above his head; he had gotten himself tangled in the shirt they had given him, and he hadn’t been able to figure it out. It hadn’t helped that they had given it to him already tied up.

“I see you’re uh… having a bit of a problem there, squirt,” Tony said.

Steve flailed his arms. “Can you help?”

Tony looked over at the guards. “Can I dress him, or are you guys going to shoot me in the ass?”

The guards looked at each other and then sighed. “Go ahead,”

“Thanks,” Tony said, stepping out from his shower. He walked around the divider, mindful of the wet tiles and dropped to his knees in front of Steve, reaching up to untangle the knotted strings on Steve’s shirt. He eased them free so Steve wasn’t quite strangling himself with them anymore. He would have preferred if the shirt was a plain old t-shirt instead of a medical gown, but at least it was clean.

Steve smiled shyly at Tony, shuffling in place. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his face flushing pink.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony said, pinching Steve’s nose gently. He smiled at the kid and smoothed down the shirt, scooping up Steve’s towel. “Your hair’s still wet,” he fretted, rubbing the towel against Steve’s head.

“So?” Steve said, leaning into Tony’s touch.

“No wet hair for you,” Tony said, scrubbing softly until Steve’s golden hair was damp instead of soaking wet. He hung the towel on the divider beside his own and hoisted Steve up, holding him against his hip. Please, he thought as he turned around to face the guards again, let me have this. Let me carry him. Let me keep him safe.

The guards pursed their lips in displeasure but didn’t say anything other than, “head to the door. We’re going back to your cell. You’ll get dinner and then lights out,”

Tony hugged Steve the entire way back.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm hoping to have future updates go from Friday to Friday. As usual, let me know if anything is funky! Thanks for all the awesome comments! :D


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony was starting to get sick and tired torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for torture (Medical Torture) and for Tony being drugged.

The guards pushed Tony inside and left; they were gentle with him this time, wary of knocking him over in case he dropped Steve. Tony hadn’t thought he would ever miss this cell, but he was starting to prefer being locked up. Their field trips weren’t pleasant, and the Skull wasn’t likely to make them any nicer now that he was angry. Tony wasn’t sure who was in more danger – him, or the staff working here. No one seemed safe.

He looked the cell over and was pleased to see that the futon was sitting flush against the back wall, clean and stiff as always, looking as if it had never been moved. He carried Steve over to it and sat down, setting Steve in his lap. The kid was trembling all over; he tucked himself against Tony’s body and refused to move. The room had warmed up considerably since they had been here last, and it was almost tolerable again. It wasn’t the temperature causing the kid’s shakes. The kid’s adrenaline reserves were drained, and with nothing else to do, Steve was at the mercy of his own mind and the horrors he had witnessed. The Skull hadn’t been happy when they had parted, and Tony knew the bastard wasn’t going to coyly fish for information anymore; he knew how worried Steve was about the both of them. He was worried too, afraid beyond words, but he was hiding it. He hoped to hell they weren’t going to try and rip the information out of _Steve_. The kid had suffered enough.

The guards came in three hours later, carrying trays loaded with hot food. Their dinner was stew, the same thick and filling kind they had eaten the night before, but today it was too much for Steve’s stomach to handle; Tony watched as the kid picked at his food, his lips pursed in a perpetual frown as Steve chased potatoes around his bowl with his spoon. He gave the kid his bowl of rice pudding in the hopes that it might get him to eat _something_ , but even that wasn’t enticing enough. The strength Steve had mustered during their time in the showers had clearly faded. It was understandable; the Red Skull was terrifying, and now that Steve knew he was out there, lurking in the darkness, it was hard to ignore what was going on. When the Skull had been faceless, it had been easy to just worry about the tests and examinations; now there really _were_ monsters in the world, and they weren’t going to go away. He tried to ask Steve if he was feeling alright, but was met with a blank stare and silence.

By the time the guards came back to claim their trays, Tony’s bowl was bare, scraped clean while Steve’s was mostly untouched. It bothered the kid to leave so much behind; Tony could see it in Steve’s eyes. There were tears in Steve’s eyes when Tony pushed their trays into the middle of the room with his foot.

“It’s alright,” Tony murmured into Steve’s ear as the kid crawled back into his lap. “We’ll be alright.” He hugged the kid close as the guards took everything away. Steve would get his appetite back in the morning. It would be fine.

 

Tony was surprised to find the futon dry the next morning. He had worried that Steve might wet himself in fear; he was used to the night terrors – he knew what to expect and how to hold things in. Steve didn’t. Still, the kid had pulled through.

The dreams had been especially vivid this time; Tony had had to pinch himself to be sure he was awake.

When the lights turned back on and breakfast came, Steve was jumpy, flinching at every little sound. His skin was pale under the florescent light, his wide eyes ringed with dark bags. There was nothing Tony could do to make him comfortable, no words he could offer to make things alright and by the time the breakfast trays went away again, Steve had eaten only a few forkfuls of fruit. No amount of coaxing could convince the kid to eat.

 

The guards came to take Steve away for testing just before lunch.

It wasn’t a surprise to see them back so soon; Tony had been waiting for them. He perched himself on the edge of the futon, and smiled at Steve as they escorted the kid out. “It’ll be alright,” he called out as they dragged Steve away. “It’s alright, sweetheart.” He threw himself over to the plastic bucket and dry heaved the minute the door shut behind them. What were they going to do? He couldn’t keep doing this – he couldn’t keep lying to the kid with a straight face. He wanted to be strong, but how could he be strong when he had to spend his days lying?

He didn’t have any time to contemplate options. Ten minutes later the guards came for him, carrying handcuffs and nightsticks with them. He almost laughed aloud, he was so nervous. Like he would try to _escape_ – he couldn’t leave here without Steve. Did they not get that? He wondered if they were stupid, or if they were just overly cautious after spending so much time around the Skull.

The guards dragged Tony down the hall to the examination room, the one he had seen the day before. It looked a little different today; inside, people were working, and the equipment was light up. Steve was strapped to an upright gurney beside a set of steel cabinets, his arms and legs dotted with fresh bandages and band aids. Tony let himself be dragged over to the only other upright gurney in the room and waited, gnawing on his lower lip, as they strapped him to it. The thick leather straps around his wrists, ankles and middle were heavily padded; this was for long-term patients – long term _experiments_. There were five nurses gathered in the room, two men and three women. They paid him no mind until he started to feel around at the straps; they didn’t like that. They muttered amongst themselves and then one of them, a blonde woman with a polka-dotted face mask and pink and green scrubs sauntered over to him. She pulled her mask down and smiled at Tony, her teeth brilliantly white. The others were wearing similar attire, but she was the most colourful of the bunch. “Mr. Stark,” she said, his voice turning bubbly, “I’m just going to give you a little something to calm you right down,”

Tony glared at her as she plucked a syringe off of a silver tray on the counter behind her; it was filled with something blue. “I’d rather you didn’t, Nurse Ratched,” he said through gritted teeth. “I feel pretty calm right now, thanks. Maybe some other time?”

Her smile didn’t falter, even when she jabbed him in the shoulder with the needle. “They’re going to take some more samples from the boy now,” she said, turning her gleeful smile towards Steve. She pulled the mask back up over her mouth and nose and pulled the needle free, carrying it off to a sharps container to dispose of it. “Please keep quiet. We wouldn’t want to distract anyone, now would we? These procedures are delicate. Someone could get hurt,”

Tony opened his mouth to tell her to go fuck herself but there was something wrong with his lips; he swallowed down a mouthful of spittle and tried to breathe calmly as whatever she had given him tore its way through his system. The nurse had been right; he did feel a lot calmer, although it was an artificial sort of calm. His muscles grew weak. He hung slack against the straps, feeling them but not really feeling them, spittle dribbling down the side of his mouth. He wanted to ask what the hell they had given him, but with his vocal chords turned to stone, there wasn’t much he could get out aside from a raspy wheeze.

Steve’s eyes were on Tony’s the entire time the nurses worked on him. His eyes watered as they took more blood samples; he tried to stay still, but started crying and pulling away when they decided they needed a few more skin samples for their collection. Tony watched in growing horror as they ran a scalpel over Steve’s arm, slicing away a nickel sized patch of skin near the kid’s elbow. The nurse even _hummed_ while she did it. She gave Steve something– another unknown injection – but it didn’t seem to help with the pain. It almost seemed to be making it _worse_.

Tony squinted at Steve; he blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to get rid of the fuzzy blue tint that had grown over everything. What the hell had they given him? If he had been able to panic, he would have been wheezing and sobbing, but the calm was all-consuming. It stole his thoughts away, smothering his fear.

Steve squirmed in his straps, shaking his head back and forth as a nurse pulled out some kind of medical device; it was nothing that Tony had seen before, although he couldn’t exactly tell what it was because his vision was beginning to blur.

Steve seemed to know _exactly_ what it was for. “I don’t want it,” he shouted, pushing himself forwards, straining and lifting his body away from the gurney. “No! Stop!”

The blonde nurse sighed and patted Steve on the shoulder in a way that might have been consoling if she had actually bothered to look like she cared about what she was doing. “The numbing agent will start soon. You won’t feel a thing,” she said.

“You’re lying!” Steve shouted. “It hurt last time! Let me go!”

The blonde nurse turned her attention to the machine again, calibrating it with a quick press of buttons. She didn’t seem the least bit interested in Steve anymore; it was like the kid had vanished from the room, leaving behind a faceless body, ripe for the harvest. “Taking spinal fluid sample five,” she dictated to another nurse beside her. “I hope we get better results this time.” The second nurse nodded in agreement and wrote everything down on her clipboard, her eyes glued to the page. The blonde nurse grasped a lever on the side of Steve’s gurney and turned it around, wheeling him into place. She toyed with the sheet metal backing and popped it open, revealing Steve’s open-backed gown; with quick, practiced movements, she pulled the folds of Steve’s gown out of the way, tying them in place against the gurney, and pressed the machine against Steve’s bare skin, locking it in place. There was a loud pop – something whirred, likely the machine, and then there was a squelching noise – one that turned Tony’s already gurgling stomach.

Steve started howling. Clearly, the numbing agent the nurse had talked about wasn’t working.

If Tony had been able to move, he would have thrashed against the straps again. He managed to lift his head for a moment, but he couldn’t keep it upright. He let his chin drop, and glared at the floor when the muscles in his neck ran out of energy. There was blood dripping down Steve’s back and something else – something pink and red he didn’t want to identify.

The drilling seemed to go on for hours, but Tony knew that realistically it had only been going for a few minutes. He stared at the floor, memorizing the whorls in the cement, hating that he felt so goddamned _calm_. Everything around him was wrapped in halos of white and green. His mouth tasted like it was stuffed with perfumed cotton balls; he could feel drool working its way down the side of his neck in a steady line. They wouldn’t ruin their tech builder, would they? The drug they had given him had to be safe – it had to be.

When the Skull walked in, Tony thought he was hallucinating. The man seemed even more demonic than usual, and the thick red halo jutting out from his body looked like it was reaching out to grab at the blonde nurse. The Skull trotted closer and nodded towards Steve, a pleased smile on his face. “I see our dear Captain is cooperating as usual,”

The blonde nurse pursed her lips. “We’ve run into… _complications_ , sir,”

“Oh?” The skull raised an eyebrow. “Something is wrong?”

“We just got in the results from last night’s tests, and I’m afraid there’s no serum,”

The Skull’s eyes narrowed. He leaned forwards, his massive hands settling on the blonde nurse’s shoulders. “ _None_? I thought you said you found some of it in his blood. You assured me that you would be able to reproduce it,”

The blonde nurse shrunk under his touch. “What we identified wasn’t the serum, sir, – it was some kind of protein – one we haven’t been able to recapture,”

The Skull’s growl rivaled that of an angry dog’s. He squeezed the blonde nurse’s shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh; Tony could hear the crack of her bones from across the room. She went down onto her knees, sobbing, and bowed her head.

“So you _lied_ to me?” the Skull hissed.

“No,” the nurse said, her voice shrill. “No – it was an _anomaly_ – a mistake in the samples. I shouldn’t have mentioned it the first time, but we didn’t know the other tests would come back free of the serum – I’m sorry, sir,”

“ _Sorry_?” The Skull pulled his hands back and glared down at her. “You’re _sorry_? Tell me, my dear,” he snapped, towering above her. “What use is the boy if the serum is gone?”

“It’s not my fault, sir,” the Nurse whispered, her arms hanging crooked and limp by her sides. “It’s something _Stark_ did – something that happened before we got to the boy. _They_ did something,”

The Skull turned on his heel. “You had better get results, my dear,” he said. “I will not be so lenient next time.”

“Yes, sir,” the blonde nurse said. When no one moved to help her, she struggled upright, balanced precariously on her knees and stumbled over to the other nurses as the Skull turned his attention to Tony. The nurses surrounded her once she was close, lifting her gently into a seat.

“So,” the Skull drawled. He took Tony’s chin in his hand and lifted it up so they could look each other in the eye, seeming to understand that Tony couldn’t manage it on his own. “ _What_ did you do to him?”

Tony blinked lethargically, trying to make his lips form words. He managed to get out a single sullen d and fell silent. The halos were circling the Skull’s head over and over again, making it seem larger than before. He squinted at them, but they didn’t go away. He tried to give his head a shake, not liking the damp warmth of the Skull’s hand, but couldn’t manage more than a weak twitch.

The Skull scowled. “Take him to our other guest and let me know when he is fit for interrogation,” he said, letting Tony’s head drop from his hand. He looked over his shoulder at Steve, still suffering as the drill worked its way into his back. “Get back to work or you’ll be where _he_ is,” he growled at the nurses, stalking from the room.

Once the Skull was gone, life returned to the room. The nurses continued to hover around their injured colleague, feeling along her shoulder to see where the bones had broken; they ignored Steve until the machine beeped and then rounded on him, their anger flaring up.

“I don’t care what they say – we got the wrong kid,” one of the nurses insisted, yanking the machine free from Steve’s back.

Steve whimpered and turned his head to the side, trying desperately to catch Tony’s eye. “ _Tony_ ,”

Tony lifted his head, locking eyes with the nurse manhandling Steve. He opened his mouth to scream at her, but his tongue was still too heavy to be of any use. He thumped his hand against the gurney instead and was glad when the nurses turned on him, their hate redirected. They swarmed him, grabbing at the straps holding him upright and pulling them free. He fell to the floor, still attached to the table by his ankle straps and lay there, winded, and sore as they glared down at him.

“He’s a piece of shit, just like the rest of the Avengers,” a nurse muttered. She gave Tony a kick in the ribs and lifted her foot to take another swing at him but was grabbed by the male nurse on her right.

“Don’t,” the male nurse said, holding onto her arm. “He wants to do it himself, remember? What do you think he’ll do if we start something first? Look at what he did to Janice,”

The nurse sighed and hung her head. “I know. It’s just hard to see him lying there without a scratch. It’s not _fair_.” She turned away, motioning for the other three nurses to follow her back towards Steve. “Let’s get the brat cleaned up then,” she said, pulling on a clean pair of gloves. “I want to get back to work. Send the guards in to get rid of Stark.”

 

 

Tony lay sprawled on the floor until the guards came to get him. He was lucky they came when they did, because it was getting hard and harder to breathe and he was pretty sure he couldn’t feel his face anymore; if they had left him lying there for any longer, he would have suffocated under his own weight. The arc reactor felt like it was trying to claw its way out of his ribcage, and while his thoughts were still hazy and slow, it was hard to ignore the lack of oxygen. One of the guards lifted him up like he was made of paper and threw him over his shoulder. It was weird to be staring at the ground like this; it was weirder still to be carried down the hallway while he drooled all over himself. He hadn’t done this since college, and the last time that had happened it had been Rhodey hauling him home from a party. He missed Rhodey. Rhodey would have at least had the decency to pat his back a little.

The guards didn’t take him back to his cell. There wasn’t any hesitation in their steps. Instead, they turned left when they should have turned right and continued down the corridor until they reached yet another turn he didn’t recognize.

Tony watched the floor as they moved, trying to count tiles so he could navigate his way back if he need to. They were much further into the compound now; it was far bigger than he had imagined. There were triple the checkpoints along this route, and three guards for every room. By the time they reached a cell at the very end of the hall, he could tell that the guards had grown nervous. It scared him that it had taken him so long to figure out what their expressions meant. He hung limp over the guard’s shoulder as the other one coded open the cell door.

He realized belatedly that he wasn’t going to be set down gently.

They tossed him onto the cement, slamming the door shut behind them so quickly, Tony could feel the breeze it made. He landed in a heap, and narrowly managed to keep his head from slamming into the floor and bursting like an overripe watermelon. He gasped, winded by the landing, and lifted his head. If the Skull wanted him here, then there was someone bad waiting for him. He could just feel it.

And he was right.

There _was_ someone waiting for him.

Bucky was sitting on a wide grey futon at the back of the cell. He was barefoot and shivering in a gown just like Steve’s. His mechanical arm was still missing, and his flesh-and-blood arm was wrapped around his back, keeping the gown from flapping open. He pushed himself upright after giving the door a sharp assessing look and approached cautiously, eyeing Tony as if he expected to be attacked. He was right to be worried; if Tony had been able to get up, he would have lunged for the traitor’s throat.

“ _You_ ,” Tony growled, wishing his arms would obey him. He flopped against the floor.

“Yeah,” Bucky grumbled. “ _Me_. Funny how things work out, huh?”

“Not really,” Tony forced out, taking a sharp breath in through his nose. The cement was colder than it had been in his old cell; it was seeping through his clothes so fast, it felt like he had been dunked in cold water. He let out a gasped breath and shuddered when the air clouded up in front of him. “Nice meat locker you got here. Enjoying yourself?”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Bucky grunted. He grabbed Tony by the arm and dragged him backwards towards the futon, his bare feet slapping against the floor. “I don’t know why I bother talking to you,”

“Fucker,” Tony hissed, wincing as his body slid across the cement with a squeal.

“They drugged you?” Bucky asked, wrestling Tony onto the futon. He rolled Tony over and pulled his feet away from the cement, sitting down cross-legged. “Why am I asking? I know he drugged you,” he snorted. “You’re not usually so _happy_ ,”

“Why are you here? Did the Skull not pay you enough?” Tony slurred. He wanted to pull away from Bucky’s hands, but the sudden reappearance of warmth was enthralling; his body was far too weak to offer up even a token protest.

Bucky rolled his eyes and lifted Tony’s head onto his lap. “I didn’t sell you guys out, if that’s what you’re asking, dip-shit,”

“Prove it,”

Bucky sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He pulled Tony’s pant legs down, making sure they covered Tony’s toes. “I’m freezing my nuts off in here, just like you. If that’s not proof, I don’t know what is,”

“So where’s the rest of the team then?” Tony said, letting his eyes close half-way. Bucky’s warm thighs were heavenly – _Nope_. He wasn’t going there. He was going to bury _that_ thought away forever.

“I have no idea where they are or if they’re still alive,” Bucky said, tugging the rest of Tony’s clothing into place. He smoothed out the wrinkles, the move awkward with only one hand. “Look, when I woke up I was lying here dressed like this. I didn’t exactly get a look at the rat bastards that took us down,”

“You were working for the Skull,” Tony scoffed. “How did you not recognize them?”

“I wasn’t working for the Skull. I was working for a guy named John Smith – and yes, I see the joke. It was arranged through a friend of a friend – an old handler – a guy I worked with for years. If I had known who it was, I wouldn’t have taken the deal,”

“Oh _sure_ ,” Tony snorted into Bucky’s thigh. “You say that now, but I think you’re full of shit. You would have taken the money if it was the devil offering it up,”

Bucky settled his hand on Tony’s shoulder; Tony flinched.

“I didn’t take money from those shitheads,” Bucky said, his voice turning soft. “Not _now_ , and not back then. The Red Room – they didn’t like _Hydra_ and they didn’t give me much of a choice about who I worked for.” He grimaced. “We didn’t help people like that – everyone else with cash, yeah, but never _them_ ,”

He sounded so serious, Tony was inclined to believe him. “You’re not going to kill me with your thighs now, are you?” Tony slurred, giggling in relief. “Natasha threatens to do that to me – did you know that? She says she’s just like you. You guys trained together,”

Bucky smiled. “No, Stark. I’m not going to strangle you with my thighs – not unless you ask _nicely_ ,”

Tony closed his eyes. This was almost nice – aside from the whole trapped in a cell with the former Winter Soldier part; maybe it was the drugs talking, but he could see why Steve trusted Bucky, although he wasn’t so sure he would ever be truly comfortable around the guy. Bucky seemed honest, in an I’ll-mess-up-your-face-if-you-mock-me kind of way, and at least right now, the nightmares and flashbacks weren’t bothering him. If he hadn’t been half-drowned by the Winter Soldier, he might have been able to truck himself into believing that the Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes weren’t the same man. It didn’t feel like the guy was involved with the Red Skull; this was no ruse. If Bucky had sold them out, he wouldn’t be here, freezing, in a medical gown; he would be miles away, counting his money in Aruba. “So you don’t know where anyone else is?” Tony asked again, needing the clarification.

“No,” Bucky grunted. “You’re the only face I’ve seen in days. We were taken out while your friend Coulson was busy ripping a strip off of everyone,”

“He loves to do that,” Tony agreed. “I think it makes him feel special,”

“They’ve got Steve, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, they got him. He’s here,” Tony murmured. “They’re mining him for samples,”

Bucky stiffened.

“I know. I’ve seen the show myself,” Tony said, bitterly. “I want them dead too. He’s holding up, but it’s only a matter of time before he breaks,”

“You’ve seen him up close?”

“They were letting him stay with me most of the time – when they weren’t trying to freeze my balls off, as you so eloquently put it,” Tony said. “I did my best, but it wasn’t good enough,”

Bucky’s rigid posture softened. “No,” he said, resting his hand on his thigh opposite Tony’s head. “You kept him going – he’ll be fine,”

Tony opened one eye. “Did they drug _you_ too?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Never mind – You’re an _asshole_. He’d be better off with a blanket and a potted plant for company,”

Tony lifted his arm lazily and let it drop down onto Bucky’s lap. “Blatant _lies_ ,”

Bucky chuckled. “You keep telling yourself that, Stark,”

“Oh, I will,” Tony grumbled. “And as soon as this goddamn drug wears off, I’m going to flick you in the ear,”

“Oh?” Bucky smiled. “I don’t think you could manage that even on a good day,”

“I could too,” Tony said, trying not to sound petulant. “You just wait. Steve’ll help me.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Bucky snorted. “Bring in the cavalry, why don’t you. That’s _cheating_ ,”

“You’re only saying that because he likes me better,” Tony said with a smirk.

Bucky’s smile faltered slightly. He looked up at the ceiling, his expression turning contemplative. He fell silent, drumming his fingers on his leg. “Did he talk to you?”

“About what?” Tony asked.

“About the dream he had,”

“Oh,” Tony said. He could vaguely remember the dream, but the details were fuzzy, just like the rest of his thoughts. He hadn’t thought this slowly in years. “ _That_. Yeah. He talked to me about that,”

“What did you say to him?”

“I told him I’m too old for him and that he needs to think about it some more – I told him there’s no rush. He’s still a kid,” Tony grumbled. What did Bucky take him for? An idiot? What was he going to say? Yes, I’ll marry you, Steve? “I wasn’t going to say anything at all, but he looked at me with those puppy-dog eyes of his, and that was it,”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, he does that. He’s _always_ done that – even when we were kids,”

“Yeah?” Tony smiled. Steve was such a sweet kid.

“He couldn’t seem to turn them off. I don’t think he knew he was even doing it,” Bucky grumbled. He pushed Tony’s hand off of his lap. “Either that, or he’s secretly a super villain,”

“God, I hope not,” Tony sighed. “Can you imagine fighting against him? He’d just give us that damn look and we’d all give up,”

Bucky smiled again. “I’ll kill you if you hurt him,”

Tony opened one eye and looked up at Bucky. “Same here, _pal_ ,”

“Good,” Bucky said, leaning over Tony. “I don’t want to hurt him. I know you don’t want to either.”

“What’s bringing this on all of a sudden?” Tony asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Is it because I’m drug addled and you don’t think I’ll remember anything?”

Bucky snorted. “No,” he said. “No. I’ve been meaning to say this to you for a while. Every time I tried to corner you, you freaked out,”

Tony flinched.

Bucky scowled down at Tony. “See? That’s what I mean,”

“You do realize that you tried to beat me to death and drown me, right?” Tony growled. “I’m _allowed_ to be paranoid about you bashing my head in,”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be, _jeeze_ ,” Bucky muttered. He brushed his bangs back and stared down into Tony’s eyes. “Look. I’m asking you – as a _friend_ , as _Steve’s_ friend – to do me a favor. If I go back to the way I was – if I get hit in the head and I snap back, I don’t want to hurt him.”

“I get that,” Tony said, patting Bucky’s knee. “I won’t let you hurt him,”

“You might have to kill me,”

Tony grimaced. He knew it was true. On his own, he hadn’t been able to take Bucky out; if Natasha hadn’t come back when she had, he would be dead right now. He didn’t see a way to take Bucky down without turning to lethal methods. His hand-to-hand combat skills were pathetic in comparison to the Winter Soldier’s. Even without the use of the mechanical arm, Bucky would still be able to take Tony down – he didn’t doubt that for a second. “I don’t think Steve would like that very much,” Tony said, carefully.

“I know,” Bucky said. “But if it needs to be done, you need to do it, alright?”

“What if I don’t want to?” Tony asked, swallowing hard. “What if I don’t want to kill you?”

“You won’t have a choice. I remember what it was like when I was him – when I was the Winter Soldier,” Bucky said. He curled his hand into a fist and clutched it against his hip, his smile turning into a sneer. “I hate him – I hate what they did to me – I hate what they made me become. I would have delivered Steve to their fucking door with a ribbon on his head, and I wouldn’t have cared at all. It would have been just another job,”

Tony gritted his teeth. “I don’t want to talk about that,”

“I need you to promise me that if it comes down to it, you’ll do what you need to do, Stark,” Bucky murmured, looking Tony in the eye again. “Promise me,”

Tony felt like he was choking on the words. “He’ll hate me,”

“I know,” Bucky said with a sigh. “But he’ll get over it,”

“He will _not_ get over it. He’ll hate me and he’ll kill me with _his_ bare hands,”

“Well, that’s your problem,”

“What am I supposed to say to that? Yes?” Tony rolled over, turning his face away from Bucky’s stomach. “I don’t want to talk about this,”

“Well tough shit,” Bucky grunted. He settled his hand on Tony’s shoulder, putting it back in the exact same place when Tony feebly managed to shrug it off. “If you love him, you’ll keep him safe,”

“Who says I love him?” Tony muttered, pulling his knees up against his stomach.

“Idiot,” Bucky grumbled, prodding Tony in the back of the head. “So that’s a yes, right?”

“I guess,”

“ _Stark_ ,”

“Yes!” Tony yelled. “I’ll fucking kill you if it comes down to it, alright? _Happy_ now?”

Bucky smoothed Tony’s hair down. His touch was unexpectedly gentle, his hand warm against Tony’s bare neck. “Thank you,”

“Yeah,” Tony grunted. “ _Whatever_ ,”

“If it makes you feel any better, if you go rogue, I’ll kill _you_ ,” Bucky drawled.

“Oh, _goodie_ ,” Tony said. “That’ll be fun,”

“Maybe you should program something into my arm – you know, to make it easier on you,” Bucky said, his voice almost wistful.

“Who says I haven’t thought about that already? _Maybe_ I put a self-destruct module into that sucker when no one was looking,”

“If you _had_ , you’d have given it back to me by now,” Bucky said with a laugh. “I’m still pissed about that, by the way,”

“ _Still_?” Tony scoffed. “I think you don’t know when to let things go,”

Bucky snorted. “You’ve been spending way too much time with Steve,”

“Don’t I know it,” Tony muttered.

Bucky’s hand opened up, spreading out over his knee. He rubbed wiped the sweat from his palm and reached behind himself to fiddle with the gown’s back. “This fucking thing keeps opening up,” he muttered, trying to pull the sides together. It was a wasted effort. The flaps of fabric didn’t seem to want to stay in place no matter how tight he pulled the strings. “Why aren’t _you_ wearing this piece of shit?”

Tony smiled thinly. “He likes to take samples, and I’ve got nothing to give him,”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell does _that_ mean?”

“The Skull is looking for the serum. Apparently Steve doesn’t have it in his body right now,” Tony said, shifting in Bucky’s lap. His strength was returning, albeit slowly, yet his lower half didn’t seem to want to follow the rest of his body. He grabbed for his pant legs and tried to tug them down further over his toes as goosebumps ran up his legs. “I don’t know what we’re going to do,” he said, fingers tangling in fabric. “The Skull thinks I did something to Steve – claims I scrubbed the serum from his blood – and he’s pissed,”

“Did you do something?” Bucky asked, cocking his head to the side.

“No!” Tony snapped. “Why does everyone think I’d do that?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, dropping his hand back into his lap. “Maybe he thinks you’re jealous of Steve, or something,”

“Jealous? I’m not _jealous_ ,” Tony muttered. “I’m Iron Man,”

“If you’re Iron Man, where’s your suit?”

“It’s at home,” Tony said with a huff. “I couldn’t take it with me. It was too easy to track – too flashy. I only had the one that worked. I sort of blew the other ones up,”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something? Couldn’t you have just built something for stealth?” Bucky asked. He chuckled when Tony pawed weakly at his knee. “It’s probably better you didn’t bring it,”

“Oh?” Tony growled. “Enlighten me, oh _brilliant_ one, – why is that exactly?”

“The Skull would have it right now, and he’s strong enough on his own without having your suit to play with,”

Tony grimaced. “Good point,”

“I’ve been known to make them on occasion,” Bucky shrugged.

The door snapped open behind them.

Bucky stiffened, sitting up ramrod straight. “Oh boy – _company_ ,”

The Skull smiled at them, his hands tucked carefully behind his back. He nodded to someone outside and the door shut behind him with a swish. He was wearing a plastic apron over his suit, one that looked far too clean, like it was just waiting to be splattered with blood.

“Hello, Stark,” the Skull said. He smiled at Bucky. “Good to see you, Barnes,”

“Fuck you,” Bucky growled.

“Charming as always,” The Skull drawled.

“I try,”

“I believe the drugs have worn off enough now. Shall we begin?” The Skull rolled up his sleeves, revealing the long, red, expanse of his forearm. “It’s time to pay for your lies,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know if anything weird shows up - I finished this at four in the morning, and I'm pretty sure I'll have missed something ; )


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Skull wasn't pleased - the idea of seeing him happy scared Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings here for beating and blood. There's also another shower scene and some water trauma for Tony - be warned.

“Do you have anything you would like to say?” The Skull asked, cracking his knuckles. He watched, still smiling, as Bucky pushed Tony off of his lap and put himself in the way, blocking Tony with the only thing he had – his body.

“He doesn’t have anything to say to you,” Bucky grunted. “So why don’t you just go back to fuckwit mountain, and leave us alone,”

The Skull chuckled. “Oh, Barnes,” he said, stepping forwards, “You always _were_ irritating. I’m not sure how you remained a secret for so many years. SHIELD must be filled with idiots if they couldn’t recognize _you_ ,”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t really myself,” Bucky said. He tried to keep the Skull away, but with one arm, he wasn’t particularly effective even with his extensive training. He took a swing at the Skull, nailing him in the chin again and again. It didn’t seem to matter how hard he hit; the Skull didn’t stop smiling. It was as if nothing was touching him. Bucky swung again and backed up, glancing behind him to see if Tony was still lying where he had left him. It was a mistake. The Skull stepped to the side and grabbed Bucky by the shirt, tossing him out of the way.

Tony managed to get onto his knees, but couldn’t keep his balance. The drugs were still slowing his movements, and his muscles had no intention of helping him stay upright for more than a few minutes at a time. He hated that he felt so calm. Here the Skull was, ready to start beating the shit out of him – and he knew that was what was going to happen, he wasn’t stupid enough to think that it was going to be a stern lecture he was getting – and he couldn’t even bring himself to feel properly afraid.

Bucky threw himself through the air at the Skull. This time, it seemed the Skull’s patience, had run out. The Skull caught Bucky by the arm and hurled him into the wall shoulder first. Bucky bounced off the wall and dropped to the ground with a grunt; he struggled to rise again and collapsed.

“While I find your courage admirable,” The Skull said, leering down at Bucky, “You would do well to stay out of my way, Barnes. I am here to punish Stark. Your day will come tomorrow,”

Bucky snorted into the cement and scrambled up. “Screw you, pal.” He shoved at the Skull’s chest with the flat of his hand, standing tall even as the Skull’s eyes narrowed in irritation. “Back off,”

The Skull sighed. “You are making this worse for him,”

“ _Fuck_ you,” Bucky snarled. He jabbed the Skull in the chest. “You’ve got us locked up here – you’ve got no right to keep us,”

The Skull grabbed Bucky by the arm and twisted it, sending Bucky flying into the wall again; this blow was harder than the last. The room was too small, and it was impossible to avoid hitting anything made of cement. Bucky slid down the wall, landing in a heap. He wouldn’t stay down. He groaned and forced himself onto his knees, trying to crawl his way closer.

“No, thank you, Barnes,” The Skull growled, kicking Bucky in the small of his back. He stomped again and again until Bucky was lying on the floor, gasping and wheezing. “You are not my type.” The Skull smiled thinly down at Bucky, pleased when he didn’t bother to get up again. “Now stay down and out of my way,”

“Bastard,” Bucky rasped, curling into a ball.

“Trying to taunt me?” The Skull said, his hands settling on his hip. “You are more of a fool than I thought, if you believe calling me names will distract me.” He turned to Tony, swiftly snatching him up from the futon by the front of his shirt. Tony hung in his grasp, his knees dragging against the floor. “If you undo what you did to the dear Captain, I will spare you this torment, Stark,”

Tony raised his head and locked eyes with the Skull. “I can’t reverse what I _didn’t_ do,”

The first blow was light, merely knocking Tony in the shoulder, a warning that worse things were to come.

“What did you do?” The Skull growled, his fingers curling in the fabric of Tony’s shirt.

“I didn’t do anything to Steve,” Tony spat.

The second blow was heavier; it pushed the air out of Tony’s lungs, and the next had him seeing stars. He gasped and lifted his arms up in front of him, grasping at the Skull’s hand still buried in his shirt. He gritted his teeth, trying to focus on the pain and not the Skull’s hideous face as it flickered in front of him. He wouldn’t give in – not to this. Not to the Skull.

The blows continued; Tony felt every last one.

In the end, he hung limply in the Skull’s grasp, his face swollen and bleeding, waiting for the one that would finally, blessedly, end him. His mind was numb, free of fear for the first time in ages. It would be alright. Steve would still have Bucky; he wouldn’t be alone.

But Steve wasn’t the only one under Bucky’s protection.

The Skull staggered and dropped Tony, whirling around to see who had hit him. Bucky’s fist caught the Skull in the chin, and this time, it did damage, although it wasn’t enough to stop him from retaliating. The Skull staggered back, tearing the front of Tony’s shirt and whirled, his eyes trained on Bucky’s. “Goddamn you, Barnes,” he snarled.

Tony hit the floor chest first, banging his nose on the way down; he could taste blood in his mouth, and could feel it dribbling down his chin. He lay still while Bucky and the Skull struggled, wishing he could close his eyes and sleep.

“Enough!” The Skull roared, shoving Bucky away.

Bucky hit the wall back-first and leaned against it after he slid to the ground, panting; his lip was split and his face bruised, but the defiant rage burning in his eyes made the injuries seem trivial. “Oh? You giving up?”

The Skull scowled. “You’re lucky, Barnes. I don’t want to kill you – _yet_.” He turned to Tony and sneered down at him, rolling him over with his boot to make sure he was still alive. “Others would have broken by now and admitted their lie. I do not believe you are strong enough to hide something from me for so long, so I suppose I will have to believe you for the time being,”

Tony didn’t bother moving. His body was so bruised, even breathing hurt.

“Therefore, I will give you a choice,” The Skull continued ignoring the fact that his audience wasn’t looking at him. “You will help my scientists develop the serum for use, and in exchange, I will not use the boy as the first candidate,”

Tony stilled. Was the Skull serious? Did he really think he would be able to pull the Super Soldier Serum out of thin air? He rolled over onto his belly, gritting his teeth and lifted himself up, balancing his weight on his elbows. He stared through bloodshot eyes up at the Skull. His body throbbed bitterly. “What?”

The Skull smiled at him. “Is this you saying _yes_ , Mr. Stark?”

Tony would have enjoyed telling the Skull to go fuck himself with a cattle prod, but he had a feeling it wasn’t going to end well if he let those words out; he wasn’t sure his body could take any more damage today. “I guess so,” he said. “What do you want me to do? Pick up their dry-cleaning? Janitorial work? I’m good with a broom – or so Pepper tells me,”

The Skull chuckled, peering down at Tony as thought he was inspecting a small dog who had pissed on his carpet. “No, Mr. Stark. As amusing as that would be to see you dressed in grey and pushing a broom around, I do not want you cleaning the floors. Your skills are needed elsewhere.” He chuckled when Tony collapsed onto the cement as his strength finally ran out. “You will have a month to get the serum working – that’s fair, isn’t it? And after that, well,” he shrugged, “the first batch you make will be used on the boy.” He turned to the door, glancing at Bucky who was still pressed up against the wall. “I expect you to behave yourself for the time being Barnes,” he said. “You are expendable – if you get on my nerves again, I will not hesitate to rip your face off and make you eat it,”

“Sure thing, _boss_ ,” Bucky grunted, saluting the Skull with his middle finger.

The Skull sighed. “One day, _boy_ , you will learn to hold your tongue,”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, wiping blood off of his lower lip. “I highly doubt that, _pal_ , but you can sure try to teach me,”

 

The Skull left without a word, leaving the door open. Tony lazily stared out into the hallway. He wondered if Bucky was going to make a break for it; if someone was going to get Steve out and take him to freedom, now would be as good a time as any. Bucky, however, didn’t seem interested in making his escape, much to Tony’s surprise. He pushed away from the wall and staggered over to Tony, kneeling beside him.

Bucky whistled lowly. “You’re a mess,”

Tony grimaced and pushed himself up onto his elbows again.

“Get him up,” their usual guard said, slinking into the room. He had his baton out and was patting it against the palm of his hand.

Bucky rolled his eyes at the guard. “Keep your pants on,” he muttered as he helped Tony to his feet. He wrapped his arm around Tony’s middle, and threw Tony’s arm over his shoulder. “Where are we going?”

The guard glared at Bucky, patting his baton harder. “The boss told us to take you for a shower – says he can’t have you stinking the lab up,”

Bucky nodded and dragged Tony to the door.

 

 

The shower room was a lot further away than Tony remembered; it was slow going, even with Bucky propping him up. The guards were patient this time, one walking leisurely ahead and one strolling behind them, their batons still held at the ready. They knew no one was going to try anything – at least not so soon after a beating at the Red Skull’s hands.

They weren’t completely wrong. _Tony_ could barely move, but _Bucky_ was still more than ready to fight. It was probably part of his training from the Red Room, Tony mused. He could feel the muscles in Bucky’s stomach against his side with each step and he had no doubt that the guy’s arm was just as beefy.

When they got into the showers, they were ordered to strip out of their bloodstained and tattered clothing. Bucky didn’t hesitate; he slipped out of his clothing and then tugged Tony’s bloody clothing off, dumping it all onto the floor beside them. Modesty, it seemed, had died long ago for him. He hesitated, however, when the guards ordered him to get into a stall.

“He’s not going to be able to wash the blood off,” Bucky said, gesturing to Tony. “Hell, he’s probably not going to be able to _stand_.”

“That’s not your problem,” the guard on Bucky’s left growled. “Get in the shower,”

“Fuck _yes_ , it’s my problem. If he drowns, we’re _all_ screwed,” Bucky growled.

The guards moved closer, batons held at the ready.

“Wait,” Bucky said, holding his hand up. “Look – I’m not saying you need to do something. Let’s just do this the easy way, huh? I’ll clean him up myself – that way, no one ends up slipping and dying. We aren’t going to try anything,”

“You think we give a shit about that?” The guard on the right snorted.

“I think the Skull cares about it – and he doesn’t want Stark hurt again. He’s got a deal with him – he needs Stark’s brain,” Bucky growled, stepping closer to the bench where Tony sat, swaying, as he tried to stay upright. “If you make him shower on his own he’s going to splatter that nice brain of his on the floor when he goes headfirst into it,”

The guard on the left sighed wearily, and slid his baton back in its holster. “Alright. But if I see any monkey business, you’re going to get a beating,”

Bucky smiled. “Fair enough,” he said, wrapping his arm around Tony’s middle. He helped Tony up, ignoring the way Tony flinched away at his touch. “Let’s get this over with,”

Tony could feel fear creeping into his thoughts; the drugs had worn off _finally_ , and he was starting to miss the weightlessness. At least when they had been in his system, he hadn’t had to worry about every little thing. He wanted to shrug away from Bucky, loathing the feeling of the other man’s skin against his own, but he knew that if he tried to move away, he would fall. He could feel the cold creeping in through the tiles beneath his bare feet, and no amount of awkward shuffling could chase it away. He shrank back when they reached the shower stall, grasping the wall in desperation.

No.

Not here.

Not here – please not here.

Bucky cocked an eyebrow. “ _What_?”

Tony closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t care that he was bloody and bruised; right now, all he wanted to do was go back to his cell so he could curl up in a ball on his uncomfortable futon. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? He didn’t want to see the water. Please, he wanted to scream, don’t put me in the water.

Bucky turned the shower on as high as it would go before Tony could even open his mouth to protest; the air started to steam as water splashed free from the showerhead.

Tony cringed and ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He could feel the spray on his skin. He caught a whiff of salt in the air and gagged, slumping against the shower stall wall. “No,” he whispered, clinging to it for dear life. Not again – not now!

The Winter Soldier’s hand landed on Tony’s shoulder.

“NO!” Tony dug his fingers into the wall as his knees buckled. This was it at last – he had been beaten, and there was nothing left, no strength to draw on; it would end here. He hoped the Winter Soldier made it quick; he hoped the bastard would have the decency to break his neck this time. He was tired of drowning, so, so tired of it.

The hand on his shoulder dropped to the small of his back.

“Whoa,” the Winter Soldier said, lifting Tony up. “Calm down, Stark. You’re going to hit your head,”

Calm down?

Tony twisted in the Winter Soldier’s grasp, trying to get away. He would have to be quick, or else that fucking metal hand was going to come down on his throat again and then the game would be lost. Hot water hit Tony in the back, and streamed down his face, dripping through his hair; he gasped and hissed at its touch. Pain lanced through his body as beads of water struck his bruised and battered skin. The Winter Soldier held him steady, angling him under the water. Tony couldn’t hear the waves coming, but he knew they would be here soon and then he would feel them on his face – on his neck and his nose and lips –

“Tony?” The Winter Soldier’s voice was hesitant.

“Just do it – kill me and get it over with,” Tony rasped, dangling in the bastard’s grasp.

“ _Tony_ ,” the Winter Soldier said, softly. “I’m on your side, remember? It’s me – It’s Bucky. I’m not going to hurt you,”

“You’re lying,” Tony whispered hoarsely as water continue to drip down his face. “You’re him – you’re _lying_ ,”

“I’m not lying,” Bucky murmured. He wrapped his arm tighter around Tony’s middle, letting Tony’s chin rest against his shoulder. “It’s ok. I know you’re scared, but I’m not him anymore. We’re here because we need to protect Steve, remember? Think about it – we’re here for _Steve_. He needs us to be strong, remember, Tony?”

Tony let out a shuddered sob as the Winter Soldier faded away. He leaned his face against the damp skin on Bucky’s neck. “ _Shit_ ,” he coughed, choking on the mist. “Sorry. Shit – I’m sorry.” He had forgotten; this wasn’t the Winter Soldier – not anymore. This was Bucky Barnes – Steve’s friend. He was safe with Bucky; this wasn’t the Winter Soldier.

“You ok?” Bucky asked, easing them towards the water again. He used his body to keep Tony up as he adjusted the strength of the spray, lowering it until it wasn’t quite so harsh.

“I’m fine,” Tony said, swallowing down his fear. His face ached where he had been slugged, and the skin around his left eye had started to swell; the tear in his lower lip stung when he licked at it. “Just get it over with, alright? I fucking hate it here.”

“You and me both, pal,” Bucky muttered. He grabbed the bar of white soap off the wall beside him and sighed. “Christ, this would be easier if I had my fucking arm.”

Tony shivered as Bucky scrubbed at him with the bar of soap, concentrating on staying upright instead of on the unwanted touch. Bucky built up a lather and set the soap down, scrubbing the bubbles over Tony’s body, getting rid of the sticky smear of blood. The bar of soap was an unhappy shade of pink by the time Tony got a look at it again.

“What’s the thing in your chest?” Bucky asked. He didn’t wait for an answer before wiping a handful of soap suds over the arc reactor, his fingers skimming the metal casing with a squeak.

It took every ounce of strength Tony had to keep from flinching away. No one had touched the reactor without his permission – not since Obie; everyone else had at least had the courtesy to ask first. He shuddered at the memory of Obie’s hand on his chest and reminded himself that Bucky wasn’t likely to rip the reactor out – not with only one hand, at least. “It’s like a pacemaker,” he supplied, grinding his teeth as Bucky moved his hand to scrub at a stubborn patch of blood on Tony’s breastbone. “It’s a miniaturized Arc reactor.”

“A reactor... so it’s a battery or something? You’re not going to drop dead on me, are you?” Bucky asked, only half joking.

Tony smiled thinly. “Not unless you take it out. Didn’t Natasha tell you about it?”

“Why would she?” Bucky said with a snort. “They weren’t talking to me all that much aside from ordering me around. She didn’t exactly trust me.”

“She said we could,” Tony said with a frown. “What makes you think she didn’t?”

“She never let me get near anything sharp,” Bucky said with a shrug. “If she really trusted me, she wouldn’t have shadowed me every time I picked up a fucking _fork_.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what she thought about me,” he said, rapping a knuckle on the middle of the reactor. “I take it no one knows about this? It’d make you a liability in the field if they knew, right?”

“SHIELD knows,” Tony grunted, pushing Bucky’s hand away from the reactor. “Don’t touch it.”

“Why?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. “Can I break it?”

“No,” Tony muttered, glancing down at the floor, watching the soap suds dance around the drain. “I just don’t like people touching it. It’s personal.”

“Alright. That’s fine,” Bucky said with a shrug. “I know what it’s like having something people can rip off you. It’s not pleasant.” He went back to scrubbing at Tony’s chest.

“Someone took it out once,” Tony said, surprised by the words. He didn’t like to talk about Obie– didn’t like the flood of memories his name brought back – but it felt like he needed to explain. “A friend of the family knocked me out – took it out. I almost died.”

Bucky winced in sympathy. “Does the Skull know about it – about your reactor?”

“I don’t know. I don’t see how he could have missed it,” Tony said, dryly. “Someone stripped me down and put me in that first set of scrubs. They had to have gotten a look at it,”

“And yet you’re still walking around,” Bucky mused. He moved on to another splotch of blood. “Maybe someone didn’t tell him,”

“Maybe,” Tony agreed. Could it really be that simple? Had someone just not mentioned it to the Skull? It wasn’t exactly as if it could be mistaken for a micro-dermal, or something as simple as that. The reactor was far too big to be overlooked, and even if people thought he was off his rocker, they wouldn’t believe he had carved a hole in his chest just for shits and giggles. Or would they? The newspapers and gossip rags always _had_ made it their mission to make him look like a crackpot; it wouldn’t be a shock to _some_ people if he had gone and implanted a giant glowing circle in his chest just because he could.

“Well,” Bucky said, inspecting the bruises littering Tony’s torso, “I don’t think he broke anything when he was using you as a punching bag. Lucky you!” He ran his hand over Tony’s back, searching out new scrapes. His fingers skittered along Tony’s spine; he paused and scrubbed at a trail of blood that had trickled down from the back of Tony’s neck. “You’ve got a bunch of cuts, but nothing’s too bad. Head wounds bleed like a bitch, and there’s no bump, so you’re _probably_ not concussed or brain damaged - well, no more than _usual_ ,”

“Ha,ha,” Tony muttered. He winced when Bucky’s fingers moved lower along the edge of his hipbone, skimming over a particularly angry bruise. “We’re never talking about this when we get home,” he said, trying not to go deadweight in Bucky’s grasp when the sudden shock of pain nearly dropped him to his knees. He locked his arms around Bucky’s neck and held on tightly, praying his hands wouldn’t slip free.

“Agreed,” Bucky muttered, grabbing for the soap again. He dropped it and sighed, glaring down at it. “If you make one goddamned joke about dropping the soap, so help me _god_ , I will end you.”

Tony giggled; it was a terrible sound, too shrill to be taken as a laugh of amusement. He let Bucky muscle him towards the wall and latched on to it while Bucky stooped to retrieve the escaped bar of soap.

“You’re a nut,” Bucky said, affectionately, wiping Tony’s legs down with soapy foam. He glided his hand over the curve of Tony’s ass, moving quickly as though he was touching something that might bite him. He eased Tony away from the wall and turned him around, attacking Tony’s chest again with his soapy hand. He muttered something in Russian under his breath; Tony couldn’t hear what it was, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it was something rude.

“Almost done,” Bucky said, steering Tony towards the water again when he was done. He eased his fingers through Tony’s blood crusted hair, mindful of the cuts and scratches on Tony’s scalp. “You’re lucky he didn’t cave your skull in,”

“It felt like he _did_ ,” Tony muttered, blinking through the water. He nearly slipped when Bucky’s hand came up to shield his face from the spray. “Thanks,” he said, leaning against Bucky’s broad chest. It felt strange to be this close to the guy – to anyone, really; there was an intimacy here he hadn’t expected and he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. He peered over Bucky’s shoulder, focusing on the trickles of water making their way down Bucky’s peach coloured skin. There was a scrape on Bucky’s lower back, likely caused by the Skull; it had scabbed over, leaving behind a smear of dried on blood. “You’re bleeding,” Tony said. “Well – you _were_ bleeding,”

“I noticed,” Bucky grumbled, scrubbing the blood off of Tony’s ear. He paused, inspecting the rest of Tony’s face. “Well, your ugly mug can’t get any worse, so I guess we’re good to go,”

“You want me to get the blood on your back?” Tony asked.

“May as well,” Bucky sighed. He shifted and handed Tony the soap.

“So what do you think’s going to happen now?” Tony asked, leaning heavily against Bucky’s shoulder, “I’m starting to think we’re both screwed no matter what we do.” He scrubbed weakly at Bucky’s back with soapy fingers, trying to keep enough space between them so they weren’t bumping groin to ass. He prayed to whatever gods were up there that he wouldn’t slip.

It didn’t work; he slipped anyway. He was pretty sure the gods hated him.

Bucky snorted out a laugh when Tony’s bearded face mashed into the small of his back, just above his ass. “You know, I didn’t say you had to clean my back with your _face_ ,”

“Shut up,” Tony griped into Bucky’s back. He grabbed Bucky by the hip, using him as a human ladder as he stood up. His knees were still wobbly, but they mostly held; he looked around with his good eye and saw that the guards were pointedly looking in the other direction as though they thought something unsavory was going on. He couldn’t help the giggle that came out next. He pitched forwards, resting his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder.

“What?” Bucky grumbled, twisting around to get a better look at Tony.

Tony’s eyes stung; tears clung to his lashes. He bowed his head as sobs tore from his throat unbidden. It had been funny, but now he couldn’t see what he had been laughing at. This was his life now – wasn’t it? It was filled with beatings and the cold, and people he didn’t really like; it would never be the same again, not until they got out of here, and even then, he wasn’t so sure it would get any better once he was home.

Were the others even coming to get them?

Or was this it?

Was it just the three of them now? Was that this all there was? Were they going to have to break out all on their own?

“Tony?” Bucky’s voice was soft when he whispered into Tony’s ear. “Hey – you with me, buddy?” He wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re starting to freak the guards out,”

Tony sniffled and wiped his nose on his arm. Jesus, when had this become his life? He turned away, letting the hot water rinse the tears and snot off his face. “I’m fine,”

“Yeah,” Bucky grumbled, patting Tony’s shoulder. “Sure. Whatever you say,”

“I’m sorry about your stupid arm,” Tony muttered, wiping at his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky said, easing Tony to the side so the water could wash away the last of the soap suds still clinging to his body. “You’re not the first guy to do it,”

“You’re kidding,” Tony said. Somehow he wasn’t surprised. From what he had heard about the Red Room, nothing had been safe from their wrath. Bad behavior meant losing the things that mattered the most, and an arm certainly counted in that respect. He wondered what Bucky had done to get that kind of a punishment.

“Yeah. It happened a couple of times. They didn’t like it when I didn’t listen,” Bucky said. “It wasn’t as bad as the actual human one getting torn off, though. That one was a _bitch_. I don’t really remember how it happened – I think I got it stuck under a rock when I fell from the train – but, man, it hurt. It itches like crazy, too.” Bucky gestured to his shoulder, where his robotic arm would have been if it had been attached still.

“I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make you a better one,” Tony said, turning Bucky around so they could was the last of the soap off of his back. “Hey, speaking of your arm – do you think they still have it?”

Bucky snorted. “I _know_ they have it.”

“Oh?” Tony bit down on his lip to keep from grinning. Maybe things weren’t so hopeless after all. “Did they, uh, show it to you?”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow. “The guards brought it in and waved it at me,” he said, slowly. “What did you _do_?”

“You remember what we were talking about before,” Tony said, glancing at the guards. “You know. The thing,”

Bucky scowled. “Right. The _thing_ ,”

“I _may_ have done it for real,” Tony said, clearing his throat. He took a step back and braced himself against the wall; if Bucky was going to slug him, now would be the time. After all, stealthily putting a self-destruct code slash bomb into a guy’s cybernetic arm was kind of rude.

“What are you – you’re _kidding_ ,” Bucky said, his eyes widening. He glanced at the guard and then reached for the tap, shutting the water off. “You’re _crazy_. You actually did it?”

“What can I say? I’m _creative_ when I’m uncomfortable,” Tony said, leaning heavily against the wall. It had taken a lot of tinkering to get everything in place without anyone knowing about it, but he was glad he had done it; all that they needed to do was find a way to connect to the arm and then bam! They could get a lovely distraction out of it if they timed it right. He grumbled to himself when Bucky manhandled him out of the stall and forced a scratchy beige towel into his arms; he lowered himself onto the icy bench behind him, not trusting his legs to keep him upright for much longer and patted the skin he could reach dry. His arms felt heavy, and what little energy he had was quickly disappearing. He hoped it would come back soon. He was getting tired of being tired.

Bucky grabbed a towel of his own and started scrubbing the lower half of his body, keeping his head bowed and his voice low so the guards wouldn’t overhear him. “So you can do it then?” Bucky murmured, drying off his toes.

“Of course I can,” Tony muttered, patting his legs dry. “Get me near a computer and I’ll find it and set it off. It won’t be hard,”

“Great,” Bucky sighed. “Well, if we’re lucky he’s going to put you in the lab with the rest of his asshole friends, so you won’t have to wait long,”

“This is assuming they let me near a computer,” Tony muttered into his towel. If they were smart, they weren’t going to trust him near one; his reputation as an escape artist made it hard to play sweet these days. He dropped his arms back onto his lap and let the towel pool over his groin, shivering as the last of the warmth from the shower fled, leaving him covered in goose pimples.

Bucky glanced up at Tony and then shot a look at the guards. “Hey,” he called out. “Do we get new clothes or what?”

The closest guard scowled at him and gestured towards a bench a few feet away with his baton, where two sets of pink scrubs sat waiting; only one was backless, and it was easy to tell who it was meant for considering they had little embroidered nametags on the breast pocket. The Skull had a pathetic sense of humor it seemed, but at least they had dry, clean, clothes again. Pink wasn’t Tony’s favourite colour, but he didn’t mind it. The new set even included a pair of soft slippers for the both of them, a welcome addition to their wardrobe even if they did have bunny ears. Bucky scowled and stalked over, snatching the scrubs and slippers up; the surliness was probably feigned, but he did a good enough job to make it impossible to tell otherwise. He dropped the clothing onto the bench beside Tony and tugged impatiently at Tony’s towel. “Come on – get your lazy ass moving,”

Tony sighed, and let Bucky pull the damp towel off of his lap. “You’re a jerk,”

“I _know_ ,” Bucky said, scrubbing the towel over Tony’s chest.

Tony snatched the towel back. “I don’t need help,”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Then why are you still dripping wet?” he asked, lifting his towel up to his head. He scrubbed at his lanky hair, but it didn’t seem to do much. With only one hand, the towel kept slipping out of his grasp. It was only his quick reflexes that kept it from dropping to the ground. “ _Fuck_ – you’d think years of doing this would make it easier,” Bucky grumbled.

After watching Bucky unsuccessfully scrub at his hair, Tony was forced to admit that he was going to have to step in. He didn’t want to; it would have been easier to look the other way and work on toweling himself off, but he couldn’t bring himself to be that callouses. Bucky had helped him after all. It was his turn to return the favor. “Look,” Tony said, gesturing to the bench. “There’s lots of space. Sit down. I’ll dry your hair,”

“I’m not a _cripple_ ,” Bucky snapped, his dark eyes narrowing dangerously. “Is that what you think?”

“I didn’t say you _were_ ,” Tony said, patting the bench, trying to make it look enticing. “But, I need help drying off my back and this way, we both get something out of it,”

Bucky eyed him suspiciously.

“I’m serious,” Tony said, lifting up his towel. “I’m freezing my ass off. Move it, soldier,”

Bucky’s frown turned into a grim smile. “I’m not a soldier anymore,” he said, sitting down on the bench. He handed Tony his towel and turned with his head bowed, hunching over so Tony could have easier access to his soggy hair. “Steve’s going to bust a gut when he finds out about this,”

Tony scrubbed the towel over Bucky’s head. “Nah, I think he’d be ok with it,”

“It’s pathetic,” Bucky muttered, his hand curled on his bare leg. “I want my fucking _arm_ back,”

Tony sighed. He scrubbed harder, getting the last few drops of water from the hair on the nape of Bucky’s neck and handed the damp towel back. He wished he could do something to help, but it wasn’t like getting the arm back now would do them much good. If they were going to blow it up, they couldn’t risk damaging it, and even if they had it the guards were still going to have batons, and the Skull was still going to be hopped-up on failed super serum; having an extra arm, even if it was made of metal, wasn’t going to do much to stop them if they were found out. He leaned forwards as Bucky dragged the towel up and down his wet back, contemplating the future. He toyed with the idea of closing his eyes and decided against it. He was already a little on the dizzy side from all the steam and he didn’t want to topple over like a drunk. It was bad enough he could barely stand on his own; he didn’t need to bruise the rest of his face with an ill-timed crash.

Bucky ran the towel over the back of Tony’s neck, a surely expression plastered on his face. “You know, when I woke up this morning, I didn’t think I was going to be toweling off your ugly ass,” he muttered.

Tony smirked and winced as the split in his lip opened up again. He licked the blood away. “Same here, _pal_ ,”

One of the guards rapped his baton on the stall beside him. “Hurry it up and get dressed,”

Bucky glared hatefully down at the pink scrubs beside him. He turned to Tony, smiling in a way that might have been charming under different circumstances. “Want to trade?”

Tony chuckled. “I would, but somehow I think they’re not going to let us,”

Bucky heaved a sigh. “You’re probably right. He probably wants us in uniform.” He picked at the plastic bag his clothing was sealed in and swore at it when it wouldn’t tear open. He tossed it into Tony’s lap without a second thought. “You do it,”

Tony ripped the plastic apart and handed the clothing back. “You need help with any of that?”

Bucky scowled. “I just need you for the shirt,” he grumbled, plucking the pink pair of BVD’s from the bag. He pulled them and the drawstring pants on without much trouble. The shirt, however, was a different matter. He picked it up and flipped it open, fumbling with the strings at the back. “I can’t get the ties done up,” he said after a minute of clumsy fumbling.

“Alright – give it here.” Tony helped Bucky into the shirt, pulling the second sleeve up over Bucky’s stump of a shoulder. He slipped the flaps of fabric closed around Bucky’s back and grasped the strings tightly in hand, tying them together as neatly as possible. At least this time they would stay in place, he mused as he did up the last two knots. He tore into his own bag of clothing when he was done and struggled into his BVD’s, angling his legs so he could get them on without having to stand up. Bucky eyed him, amusement plain as day on his face.

“You know, you can ask for help too,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, pulling the shirt over his head.

When they were done, they were ushered out into the hallway with one guard walking in front of them and the other at their backs; Bucky slung an arm around Tony’s middle and kept him upright. The hall grew colder the further they walked. Tony leaned closer to Bucky when the shivers started up again.

A beep sounded from the on the radio strapped to belt of the guard behind them; the noise was piercing, jolting them from their silent march. Tony stumbled as the guard in front slowed down and stopped, turning to face the guard at the back.

“Yes?” The guard at the back held the radio up to his ear and waited for the person on the other end of the line to speak.

“Return Stark to his original cell,” a voice said over the crackling line. “There’s been a change in plans.”

Tony tensed.

“Roger that,” the guard said, strapping the radio to his belt again. He snapped his fingers to get their attention and tapped his baton against his palm. “We’ll drop Stark off first – then it’s back to your cell, Barnes,”

“Great,” Bucky muttered. He hoisted Tony up higher to keep him from slipping onto the floor. “Well, at least I get the scenic route this time,”

The guard chuckled. “Get moving,”

 

They let Bucky set Tony onto the floor near the doorway before they hauled him away to his own cell; when the door shut, the room went pitch black. Tony could barely see anything, but he found that it didn’t really bother him. He was too exhausted to care. He felt along the floor as he crawled the distance to the futon and cheered silently when he found the edge of the futon. His fingers brushed something warm; he stopped, his hand held out in front of him and squinted in the darkness.

There was a person lying on the futon.

Tony crawled closer, mindful of his slippers. “ _Hello_?”

The person on the futon jerked up, flailing around in the dark; a blow caught Tony in the chin, but it wasn’t has hard as it could have been. Regardless, he rocked back on his heels, almost toppling over.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was different, much richer than usual – deeper, too.

Tony didn’t have to see him to know that this wasn’t the child he had seen last. This was Steve Rogers – adult, Steve Rogers. He lowered himself onto the flat of his ass, aware dimly that the cement floor was cold. “Steve?

Steve reached out and patted at Tony’s shoulder, trying to find him in the dark. “Tony? What’s going on?”

Tony let out a nervous laugh. He moved without thinking, wrapping his arms around Steve, and buried his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. “You’re safe,” he murmured. “You’re safe,”

Steve let out a startled laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Tony said, hastily pulling back. This wasn’t the Steve he knew – well, this wasn’t the child-Steve he knew. He had to remember that. He slowed as his fingers brushed against Steve’s chest. He could feel Steve’s ribs. Wait – that couldn’t be right. He patted at Steve’s body, fingers feeling blindly in the dark. No. This wasn’t right – this couldn’t be possible.

“Steve? What happened to the serum?”

“I was hoping you could tell me the answer to that,” Steve sighed. He patted the futon beside him. “Sit down. It’s too cold to be sitting over there.”

Tony moved on auto pilot and sat, tucking his feet underneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if anything funky pops up. I finished editing this at like 1:45 in the morning, so there might be something strange! : )


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wasn't particularly happy when he found out what was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if anything sounds weird! Thanks for reading!

“You were attacked,” Tony said, wishing he could explain things better. They hadn’t identified the attacker or the weapon used on Steve before they had been captured so there wasn’t much else he could add.

“Did it have something to do with that bagel?” Steve asked. “Because that’s the last thing I remember,”

“No, _Steve_ ,” Tony said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Would Steve _ever_ shut up about that bagel? It had been one little bite – _one_! Hell, it had even been a bite, it had been more of a _nibble_. He had had a feeling it would come back to bite him in the ass. “It didn’t have _anything_ to do with the fucking bagel.”

“How long have we been here?” Steve asked, shifting uncomfortably in place. He turned on his knees so that he could face Tony. It was impossible to make out his expression in the dark, but Tony was fairly certain Steve had that puckered, irritated look again – the one he got when he thought someone wasn’t telling him the entire truth.

“I’m not sure. Time’s kind of relative here,” Tony said with a sigh. “If I had to guess, it’s been almost a week,”

“So we were attacked and we’ve been locked up here ever since? Where’s here, by the way – and who’s responsible?”

“Look – I think I need to start again,” Tony said. “Steve, this started a long time ago. You were turned into a child.”

“What?” Steve sighed in irritation. “Are you pulling my leg, Stark? Because that’s not funny,”

“Why the fuck would I make that up?” Tony snapped. He tensed, his muscles turning to steel. _Great_ – It hadn’t even been ten minutes since Steve was back to normal, and already the guy was chewing a strip off of him for no reason. No. He could do this. He had promised himself that he would put up with it and he _would_ put up with it. He took a deep breath in through his nose and forced himself to stay calm despite the twist in his gut. “You know what – I think this conversation is going to have to wait. I’m tired, and I don’t really think I can explain it properly right now.” He lowered himself onto the half of the futon that wasn’t currently occupied by Steve and closed his eyes, ignoring the cold as it took hold of his lower body. At least his _head_ was warm, he thought bitterly. Maybe the cold would numb the bruises and his growing rage. Bruce was going to be so proud of him when he got back.

“Tony,” Steve said with a sigh. He went onto his knees and felt along the futon until he found Tony’s head and shoulders. “I’m sorry, ok? I just don’t understand what we’re doing here,”

“It’s fine,” Tony muttered, closing his eyes. “I’ll explain it later, alright? I’m _really_ tired,”

“What happened to your face?” Steve asked, his fingers skimming Tony’s swollen cheek. “Who did this?” Steve sounded scared.

“It’s nothing,” Tony said, batting Steve’s hand away.

“It’s not nothing,” Steve huffed. He inched closer and tugged on Tony’s shoulder. “If you don’t want to talk about it right now, that’s fine, but don’t sleep like that. The floor’s cold,”

“Yeah,” Tony snorted, “I _noticed_. And do you mind? I’m kind of bruised here.”

“I’m sorry – I’ll be more careful, alright?”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I get that you’re angry, but you don’t need to freeze to death to prove a point. Lie down here with me,” Steve said, patting the futon. “We can share the warmth.”

Tony sighed. He lifted his head wearily and glanced at the rest of the futon. He really did want to be mad at Steve, but it was hard to feel anything other than the growing numbness in his heart. It really would be more comfortable lying there on the futon, without the cold biting into his hip and back; it was easy too. All he had to do was get up and move, but the problem was that going there meant being near Steve, and he wasn’t so sure he could just _casually_ lie down next to the guy. It had been easy when Steve was a child. He hadn’t had to think about anything – about how Steve would react to him. Now it felt like he was juggling chainsaws.

“Come on, Tony,” Steve said, patting the futon again. “Lie down,”

Tony heaved himself upright and crawled across the futon on his hands and knees. He regretted sprawling on the floor so quickly now that he was on the semi-soft futon again; his joints ached bitterly as he dropped down onto his side. He was getting too old for this kind of shit. He lay beside Steve and wrapped his arms around himself, shivering as Steve’s warmth started to creep into his body. He stared into the darkness as Steve settled against the wall behind him, and tried not to gasp when Steve’s knees brushed the backs of his. It was different, being here with Steve like this. It felt like he was with a stranger.

This was what he had been waiting for – what he had known was coming.

The kid was gone.

He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut as tears started to flow freely; he muffled the sobs as best he could, biting down on his hand to keep the noises from getting out. The kid was _gone_. Steve was gone, and he hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye. He was just a _kid_ , and he had left this world alone.

How had it happened?

Had the guards put Steve back in their shared cell after they had taken him away to see the Skull? Had the kid wondered where he was? Had he been afraid? Had he been waiting for him to come back?

Steve’s arm wrapped around Tony’s middle as though he could hear Tony’s thoughts. “It’s alright,” he said, rolling closer, his slender frame pressed tightly against Tony’s back, leaving no space between them. “We’ll figure this out together,”

Tony nodded slowly, not really hearing Steve’s words; he felt cold inside, like something was missing – like it had been torn out, leaving nothing but an empty, gaping, hole behind. It shouldn’t have been this hard to let the stupid kid go. He hadn’t even expected him to stick around – but it had been _months_ since they had become friends, and _oh_ – he had lost _all_ of that. Steve didn’t remember a thing; they weren’t friends anymore – they would probably never be friends again. He sobbed harder, biting down on the inside of his wrist. It was for the best. There would be no nightmares from what had happened here – this way there would be no trauma, no pain. The kid was free now; he was finally safe.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was gentle when he whispered in Tony’s ear. “Who hurt you?”

Tony cleared his throat. He steadied himself; Steve wouldn’t take this well. He didn’t know Steve’s thoughts anymore, but he knew the child version well enough to see how upsetting this news would be. “The Red Skull did it,” he said, gritting his teeth. “He runs this place.” Steve’s hand dug into the meat of Tony’s hip, pressing into the bruises already littering Tony’s skin. Tony let out a soft whimper, wishing he could take the words back and pretend they were a joke. Steve let go quickly, seeming to realize what he had done.

“I’m sorry. Shit.”

“It’s fine,”

“It’s not fine,” Steve said, shaking his head.

“Alright – so you’re a jerk. Happy?”

“Not really. The Red Skull is _dead_ , Tony. You’re _wrong_ ,”

Tony wiped at his eyes. “Steve,” he said, his voice cracking, “I think I know who beat the shit out of me,”

“He’s _dead_ ,” Steve insisted, his tone bordering on hysterical. He pulled away and rolled over, turning to face the wall, curling in on himself. “The Red Skull _died_ – I killed him and then I put the plane down in the water. I died to kill him,”

“Well,” Tony said with a sniff, wrapping his arms around his middle again, rubbing at the new bruise on his hip, “I hate to break it to you, but he didn’t stay dead _either_ ,”

“I am _not_ wrong!” Steve shouted shrilly, his voice bouncing off the walls.

“You don’t have to yell at _me_ ,” Tony muttered, shifting towards the edge of the futon. This had been a bad idea. He shouldn’t have bothered getting comfortable here – not if this was how Steve was going to act. Maybe the floor would be better after all. God, why had he even bothered trying? He had known Steve didn’t like him, but he had thought Steve had at least _trusted_ him enough to listen.

“No – don’t go,” Steve said as Tony started to sit up. He rolled over again, inching closer across the futon. “I’m not yelling at _you_ ,” he mumbled, sounding ashamed. He wiggled back into place against Tony’s body, curling around him. He was shivering all over, likely there only because he was seeking extra warmth, but Tony didn’t mind; he liked the way Steve felt pressed up against him, even though he knew it didn’t mean anything.

“It’s just not… it shouldn’t be _possible_ ,” Steve mumbled into Tony’s neck. “I stopped him. He’s dead. Why would he get to live again? Why _him_?”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Tony said, grimacing when Steve’s boney knee bumped against his thigh. “Look, let’s just talk about it in the morning, alright? I just want to get some sleep,”

“You keep saying that, but should you _really_ be sleeping?” Steve asked, patting at Tony’s forehead. His hands were small, his fingers slender and soft, unlike the rest of him; he ran his hand over Tony’s forehead, nimbly moving over skin as he tried to map out Tony’s face in the dark.

Tony delicately pried Steve’s hand off of his cheek. “Poking me in the _eye_ is not helping, Rogers,”

“Sorry,” Steve grumbled. “I just want to see how bad the damage is,”

“Well, I want to sleep right now – you can check me over in the morning. Maybe they’ll even turn a light on for you,”

“I want to check you over _now_ ,” Steve insisted, sitting up. “Come on. Roll over.”

Tony scowled. “I’m _tired_ ,”

“And I’m worried about you dying in your sleep because you have a concussion,” Steve said, feeling along the side of Tony’s face. He moved on to Tony’s shoulder when he was satisfied with what he found. “Does it hurt here?” he asked, gently rubbing his way along Tony’s collarbone.

“Yes,” Tony hissed, batting Steve’s hands away. “Stop it! Bucky already checked me over – you don’t need to do it too,”

“That’s not funny,” Steve said, shrinking back as though he had been struck. “Why would you say something like that?”

“What?” Tony sat up slowly, cursing his aching body. “What did I say?”

“Bucky’s _dead_ , Tony,” Steve said, sitting stiffly. “That’s _cruel_ – you didn’t even know him. Why would you even say something like that?”

“Say something like _what_? Bucky’s been with us since the beach – which, of course, _you_ don’t remember,” Tony said with a groan. He flopped back down on his side, grimacing. “God, can’t you just let me sleep? I’ll explain everything later, ok? Just let me sleep. I can’t think like this,”

“I think I deserve an explanation _now_ ,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well I don’t _want_ to explain it all _right fucking now_! It’s been a _shitty_ day, Steve – a shitty fucking _week_ , and I just want to go to sleep,” Tony growled. “Just let me have a couple of hours, alright? I just need some _sleep_ and then I swear I’ll be better. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,”

Steve inhaled sharply through his nose. “Fine. Keep it all to yourself. It’s still not going to keep me from checking you over,”

“Fine,” Tony grumbled, rolling onto his back. “Feel me up all you want – just don’t wake me when you’re done,”

“Fine,” Steve muttered, kneeling beside Tony’s hip. “Let me know if it hurts anywhere,”

 

 

Tony woke up with Steve spooned up behind him. Had he died while he was sleeping? Because he hadn’t thought Steve would get this close to him again after what had happened the night before. Steve’s irritation, it seemed, hadn’t been enough to block out the cold, so here he was huddled up against Tony with his arm wrapped tightly around Tony’s middle. That was more than alright. It wasn’t like Tony wanted Steve anywhere else; at least here, he could keep Steve warm, even if it was only for a little while. Steve’s breathing was deep and rhythmic, his breath warm against Tony’s skin; it was calming to listen to, a blessing beyond words. Steve’s medical chart from his pre-serum days was almost as thick as a phonebook. Steve had been a walking time-bomb back then; anything could have taken him down and put him in the hospital. Tony didn’t even want to think about what sleeping out in the cold would do to Steve’s already weak immune system. There was no wheezing today, no bubbling sounds coming from Steve’s chest. He didn’t know what he would have done if Steve had been struggling to breathe. Seeing Steve as a child, fighting off the flu, had been bad enough on its own. Back then there had been medication – here there was nothing.

The futon had flattened out during the night; their combined weight had finally been enough to squash the air out of it. The damn thing was going to be paper thin by the time they got out of here, Tony mused. He was going to have to take a peek at the tag on it and find out who made the damn things; putting them out of business was going to taste so, _so_ sweet.

Tony’s side ached. He shifted and then stilled when Steve’s breathing started to pick up. He didn’t want to talk about what had happened yet, and he knew it would be the first thing out of Steve’s mouth the second he woke up, so he did the cowardly thing and settled back down again even though it wasn’t particularly comfortable anymore. Without the serum, Steve was a full head shorter than Tony, and his boney bare toes were busy digging their way into the middle of Tony’s thighs. It wasn’t pleasant. He was going to have to beg the guards to lend them a nail clipper, because Steve’s talon-toes were a real problem. He could probably use them to gouge out concrete at this point.

Tony shifted and glanced around to see if anything had changed while he had been asleep. The room was brighter than before, but it was just as empty as always; everything seemed the same. He glared at the door. The guards would be coming soon. He wondered what they would do now that Steve wasn’t an easily terrorized child. Would they drag Steve off to a separate cell? Or were they going to leave him here?

The door opened without warning; the two guards who stepped inside were the same ones as always, but today they seemed more wary than usual, more timid, even. It was understandable. Captain America was back, after all; who _wouldn’t_ be frightened of entering a cell where _he_ was being held captive?

Tony didn’t so much as twitch; the smell of eggs and bacon was enthralling and he didn’t want to risk having it taken away if he jumped on it like some kind of ravenous beast. Besides, his bruised and battered body wasn’t really up for fast movements just yet. Slow and steady was going to be his motto for the next little while. He let the guards get into position, and waited watchfully while one set twin breakfast trays down on the floor in the middle of the room. He could feel Steve waking behind him, so he put his hand on top of Steve’s, hoping it would convey to him that they needed to stay still. It didn’t keep Steve docile, but it did keep him from lunging at the guards directly. Tony was proud he had managed that much.

The guards left in a hurry.

Tony sighed and lethargically struggled upright, his joints cracking with every move he made. He scooped their trays off the freezing floor and carried them back to the futon, just like he had done every day since they had arrived, attentive to the cold air against his skin. He held the second tray out to Steve and settled cross-legged onto the futon, rolling his shoulders one at a time before setting his tray down on his lap. He frowned at Steve’s bare feet and picked up his tray again so he could kick his slippers off without knocking his food halfway across the room. “You can have these if you want,” he said, nudging the slippers towards Steve.

Steve hesitated for only a moment and then snatched the slippers up, tugging them on. “Thanks. We can share them,”

“Sure,” Tony said, lifting the cover off of his tray. The bacon was dripping with grease and still warm; everything else was cold and soggy. He pushed his eggs around on his plate as he ate them, breaking the yellow lumps up into bite-sized clusters.

Steve hoovered everything on his plate, shoveling food into his mouth so fast it hard to tell what he was eating at any given moment.

So they were back to this again, huh?

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised.

Tony finished most of his eggs and all of his bacon, but it was a grueling trial. He tried to choke down the rest of his food, but could only manage a handful of his cantaloupe squares before his stomach decided enough was enough. He pushed his tray towards Steve with a grimace. “Here,”

Steve paused, fork still held halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“I can’t finish and I don’t want it. Eat,” Tony said, giving the tray a wiggle. “My stomach’s not feeling so great.”

Steve frowned. “Are you sure?” he asked, scraping the last of his food off of his plate and into his mouth. He didn’t need the calories the way he did when he had the serum in his veins, but that wasn’t slowing him down.

“I wouldn’t be offering it to you if I wasn’t sure,” Tony grunted. He handed Steve his tray and wrapped his arms around his middle, trying to warm himself up again. His stomach grumbled unhappily; he rubbed at it, hoping it would behave. He didn’t think Steve would appreciate having to smell vomit so soon after breakfast.

Steve hesitated, setting his empty tray down on the floor. He balanced Tony’s tray against his knees and prodded the fruit, as though suspecting something was wrong with it.

“It’s not the food making me feel sick,” Tony sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I know that,” Steve said with a scowl. He let his fork drop into the tray and picked up the bowl of fruit, turning it around so he could get a better look at it. “It’s almost full,” he commented.

“I noticed,” Tony said, dryly. He wanted to lie down again, but with Steve sitting on the other side of the futon, it would be impossible to get comfortable unless he curled up into a ball, and the bruises on his back, gut and ribs weren’t likely to enjoy that experience all too much. He settled for rubbing at his stomach again.

“You should try to eat a little bit more,” Steve said, holding the bowl out. “Just a few more pieces? You need to keep your strength up,”

Keep his strength up? Tony smiled and shook his head. God, was this what he had sounded like when Steve had still been a kid? Had he been this corny too? “Seriously, Steve – I get it, believe me. I’d eat if I thought I could, but I just don’t feel like puking everything up. So just finish it off for me, alright?”

Steve picked up a chunk of cantaloupe and offered it to Tony. “Eat one more?”

Tony sighed. “Fine,” he said, popping the chunk of cantaloupe into his mouth. He made of show of chewing and swallowing and then licked his fingers clean so he wouldn’t get anything sticky on his scrubs when he went back to rubbing his stomach. “I think I need to lie down again,” he said.

“ _One_ more?” Steve asked, holding up a strawberry.

Tony gave the fruit the evil eye. “Steve,” he said, warningly, “I’m serious about the puking part,”

“Just _one_ more,” Steve said, giving Tony a soft smile. “ _Please_?”

Tony plucked the strawberry out of Steve’s hand and chomped into it, eating as quickly as possible. His stomach grumbled at him, unamused by his continued eating; blessedly, it decided to behave itself. He licked his fingers clean again, running his tongue over the nail on his thumb to get a particularly stubborn seed and was surprised to see that Steve was suddenly looking very intently into the bowl of fruit.

What was _that_ about?

Steve cleared his throat, grabbed for his fork and stabbed at the remaining bits of fruit, taking the pieces two at a time. He ate with a grimace on his face, stuffing himself with every last morsel. When he was done, Tony half expected _him_ to decide to have a bit of a lay down too. He looked _queasy_ ; the burp that came up a few seconds later sounded a wee bit too wet for Tony’s liking.

Steve’s cheeks flushed pink. He stacked their trays and bowls together, setting everything in the middle of the room, and scooted backwards onto the futon when the door opened. He watched as the guards came in to collect everything. The frown on his face made it clear he was in planning mode; unfortunately for him, the guards seemed to notice the look, and they weren’t liking the scrutiny.

The first guard took out his baton, smacking it against his palm. “Alright, _newbie_ ,” he said. “The rules are simple. Don’t try anything and you won’t get hit.”

“Alright,” Steve said with the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Sounds simple enough. I think I can do that,”

The guard scowled. “Tell you what – we’ll make it even _simpler_ for you. If _you_ try anything, it’s not going to be _you_ who gets hit,” he said, waving the baton at Tony. “Stark’ll be the one getting the beating,”

Steve paled.

“Good,” the guard said, scooping up their trays. “Oh, and you’ve got the day off,” he said, stepping through the door. The second guard gave them a brief, cautious, glance before leaving; the door shut behind them, locking in place with a sullen click.

Tony let out a heavy sigh. He ran his fingers through his sweaty hair and turned, lowering himself onto the futon on his side. Steve shifted to accommodate him, his eyes still trained on the door.

“Don’t bother,” Tony said, wrapping an arm around his middle, trying to conserve his strength and warmth. “It’s seamless and it only opens from the other side,”

“I’m assuming that means you’ve checked all the walls too,” Steve murmured, wrapping his arms around his knees. He glanced at each of the walls in turn, eyeing them in a way that made even Tony feel uncomfortable.

Tony kicked lightly at Steve’s leg. “Stop that,”

“I’m trying to get us out of here,” Steve grumbled, rubbing at his leg. “You still haven’t explained anything yet, in case you’ve forgotten,”

“Oh,” Tony said, glaring at the edge of the futon. “Right.”

“So are you going to tell me now, or are you going to take another _nap_?” Steve said, his dour mood turning on Tony.

“You were hit with some kind of beam,” Tony said, hiding his fingers in the loose fabric of his scrubs. “We couldn’t find out who did it, or what it was that did the damage – Bruce and the others are still looking. The point is, you weren’t an adult anymore,”

“Is this the I-turned-into-a-kid story again?” Steve asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“You were a seven year old,” Tony said, trying not to be impatient. He knew how strange it sounded, and he had lived through it; Steve was used to magic and mayhem, but losing a few months would still be hard to believe.

“So I turned into a kid?” Steve repeated. “You’re _absolutely_ sure that’s what happened?”

“Yes, Steve, I’m absolutely sure that’s what happened,” Tony snapped, bristling. He toyed with the hem of his shirt, fiddling with a bit of loose string. “You were a kid – until last night, obviously,” Tony muttered. He swallowed down his tears, remembering Steve’s childish, chubby face. God, he was going to miss the little guy. How had he gone about his life before? It was hard to think about a time when Steve hadn’t been underfoot.

“Right. Ok, so you said we’ve been here a week now?” Steve said, drumming his fingers on his knee. “So I was a kid for a week,”

“Uh, no,” Tony said. “It’s been a couple of months, actually.”

“ _Months_ …” Steve’s eyes widened. “You’re – that’s impossible,”

“Steve,” Tony said with a huff, “I’ve been on babysitting duty ever since you got hit. I think I know what’s possible and what’s impossible,”

“But that’s – I don’t remember _anything_ ,” Steve said, staring down at his hands. “It’s been _months_?”

“You didn’t really miss much if that’s what you’re worry about,” Tony said hastily, hoping to smooth things over. “You’ve been with us the entire time, and it’s not like people thought you vanished into thin air or something. The people who needed to know about it knew,”

“That’s not the point!” Steve snapped.

Tony winced.

“I was a child – a _child_ – for months, and now I’ve lost the serum and I’m an adult again. Is that what you’re telling me?” Steve growled. “The Red Skull is back – alive – and so is Bucky? Jesus, Stark – I think you hit your goddamned head a lot harder than you think,”

Tony snorted. “Whatever, _Cap_ ,” he said, closing his eyes. Why did he give a shit again? It wasn’t like he was needed here anymore; the kid was gone, and he didn’t have to look out for anyone other than himself. No one needed to look out for _Captain America_ – Captain America could take care of himself.

“Tony,” Steve said, wearily, “I’m serious. Did someone look you over? Tell me the truth,”

“ _Bucky_ looked me over,” Tony muttered. “He was with me when the Skull decided to use me like a fucking drum, alright? He was right _there_ in the shower after, too,”

“Tony,”

“What?”

“Tony – Bucky Barnes is dead,” Steve said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how you found out about him, but when we get out of here, I’m going to ask Bruce to look you over again,”

“Oh,” Tony snorted, sitting up. “So I’m brain damaged now? Is that it?” He sneered at Steve, his hands curling into fists. All these months spent taking care of Steve, and the fucking guy wouldn’t even listen to him. “Thanks for that. I guess I must be if I was looking out for your stupid ass,”

Steve flinched. “Tony,”

“What?” Tony said, struggling up. He staggered over to other end of the cell across from the futon and sat down on the cold floor, tucking his feet into the bottom of his scrubs. “You got a problem with me _swearing_ at you because you told me I’m hallucinating and off my fucking rocker, Rogers? Fuck you,”

“Tony,”

“Fuck. You.”

“You’re going to catch cold if you sit over there,” Steve said, resting his chin on his knees. “Stop being so stubborn,”

“I’m stubborn?” Tony growled, wrapping his arms around his middle. “You’re the guy who refuses to believe a word that comes out of my mouth! Because I lie all the time, right? Tony Stark – King of the liars.”

“ _Tony_ ,”

“Do what you want – break out or don’t break out – hunt down the Skull or ignore him – hell, leave _me_ here to rot. I don’t give a shit.”

“You’re being childish,”

“I’m fucking _tired_ ,” Tony snarled, closing his eyes. “I want to go home and I’m so fucking tired of you telling me I don’t know anything!”

“I’ll get us out of here,” Steve said, softly. “Just give me some time to _think_ , Stark.”

Tony slid down the side of the wall and closed his eyes. “Fine. Do whatever you think you need to do, Steve. Plan _whatever_ you want,” he said, closing his eyes. A nap was a good idea right about now; maybe then he wouldn’t have to listen to Steve telling him how goddamned _crazy_ he was. He started shivering and by the time he dropped off to sleep, he couldn’t feel the side he was lying on.

 

 

Tony woke with Steve wrapped around him like a living blanket. Somehow, the guy had managed to drag him across the floor and onto the futon all by himself; it was pretty impressive, considering how frail Steve looked. Realistically he knew Steve was still the same tactician he always was, so it probably hadn’t taken him very long to get Tony where he wanted him, but it was hard to ignore the kindness of the act. He was still mad, of course, but he would take this over freezing on the floor any day. Steve’s warmth was _almost_ enough to earn him forgiveness. Tony shifted on the futon, trying to work the kinks out of his neck. He smiled softly despite himself when Steve snuggled closer to him in his sleep, his nose rubbing against the back of Tony’s ear.

Tony allowed himself to doze for a few more minutes as he pondered how long it had been since breakfast. His stomach wasn’t quite rumbling yet, and it felt better, so he suspected that it hadn’t been more than a few hours. Had Steve come up with a plan since then? It wouldn’t have surprised him. He had seen Steve come up with plans in far less time than this.

The door slid open; Steve jerked awake behind Tony. He lifted himself up onto his elbows and leaned over Tony’s shoulder as the guards carried in two trays, but didn’t otherwise move. Tony pushed himself up once the guards were gone and scooted towards the trays on his knees. He frowned when he realized he was wearing his slippers again, but didn’t comment on it; his toes were warm again, and he was just happy they weren’t encased in little blocks of ice. He handed Steve one of the trays before settling down to eat. It wasn’t a five-star meal, merely a tuna sandwich with a glass of milk and a couple of chocolate chip cookies, but it was _food_ – even if the cookies _did_ taste a little stale.

Steve ate hastily, finishing the quarters of his sandwich in two bites each. He moved on to his cookies and chomped through them, swallowing down the milk before it could get even faintly warm.

Tony nibbled at his food, his stomach grumbling unhappily after each bite. He forced himself to finish the sandwich under Steve’s watchful eye and then drank the glass of milk before he could be ordered to finish it. “Happy?” he asked, picking up a cookie. He nibbled on the edge of it and then put it back on his plate with a sigh. Chocolate chip cookies had been Steve’s favourite; he couldn’t bring himself to eat them. “You can have these if you want.” He pushed the plate towards Steve and turned away, setting his glass back down on his tray.

Steve picked up the plate, cradling it against his chest. “They kind of taste like cardboard,”

“Yeah, I know,” Tony said with a shrug. “But they’re better than nothing, right?”

Steve smiled sadly. “Yeah, I guess so.” He bit into the first cookie.

Tony put his tray down on the floor and slid it towards the middle of the room. There was no sense in keeping it any longer, not now that it was empty. He looked around, trying to find a suitable place to lie down again.

“So I was thinking,” Steve said through a mouthful of cookie.

“Oh?” Tony slumped forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. He was surprised it had taken Steve so long to come out and say it.

“I think I have a plan,” Steve said, wiping cookie crumbs from his lower lip. He nibbled at the next cookie, licking chocolate off of his fingers. “I think I can get us out of here, but I need to ask you a few questions,”

“Alright,” Tony said, turning around. He yawned into his hand, feeling sleepy and full. “Let’s hear it,”

Steve inched closer, hunker down and whispered his plan into Tony’s ear.

 

 

When the guards came to take away the trays, they were ready for them; Tony was surprised by how much damage a tray could do if aimed at someone’s head in just the right way. Steve had the first guard down a split second after he got into the room, and there wasn’t much the second could do to stop himself from being beamed in the head at eye level. Tony had barely had to lift a finger.

Together they pulled the guards out of the hallway and into the cell, tying them up with the zip-ties they found in a pocket on one of the guard’s belts. At first they worried that the doors would close behind them, sealing them in, but their fears proved unwarranted. No one came running in – the doors stayed wide open, waiting for instructions from a keycard, one they found on the guards. They didn’t rush after that, but they didn’t dawdle either; they stripped the guards out of their uniforms and pulled the stolen clothing on over their scrubs. The uniforms didn’t fit the best, but since Steve wasn’t as big as usual, they both found they could get away with wearing what they had pilfered without it looking too obvious. The only problem they had ended up being the stolen boots, which didn’t quite fit properly.

Tony felt giddy and nervous. He followed Steve’s lead as they stepped out of the cell and watched warily as Steve surveyed the hallway outside for unexpected visitors. They waited in silence, eyeing the hallway until they were both satisfied that the coast was clear.

Tony slid the keycard free from the pouch on his belt and closed the cell door behind them with a flick of his wrist. So far, things were going swimmingly. He hoped their luck kept up with them. “Alright,” he said, pulling his mask down over his face. “Where to, Captain?”

Steve didn’t get a chance to say.

The building shook so hard, Tony was thrown into the wall. He braced himself, one hand thrown out to ease the impact and waited, listening carefully for footsteps. He could hear shouting in the distance, but it was faint. Good – the hall was still clear and would probably stay that way.

“I thought you said you weren’t close enough to set that bomb off?” Steve hissed, pulling Tony away from the wall.

“Oh, Rogers,” Tony said with a chuckle, “That wasn’t _me_. That was the _cavalry_.” The radio on his belt chirped to life, letting out a barrage of angry shouts and curses as the compound’s security forces called for backup. “See?”

“You sure they can’t track us through that?” Steve asked, heading down the hall with Tony’s wrist clamped in his hand.

“They probably can, but they’re a little busy at the moment. I think it’s an outer wall breach,” he said, pulling his hand free. He turned left at the next junction, almost leaving Steve behind.

“What are you doing? It’s this way,” Steve insisted.

“That’s the way to the labs – this way leads to Bucky,” Tony said, jogging down the hall as quickly as his bruises would let him. There was no way he was going to leave Barnes behind now, not after what they had been through. He owed the guy a thousand times over.

“Tony,” Steve growled, sprinting after him, “Bucky’s _dead_. You need to stop thinking he’s alive,”

Tony snorted as he turned the corner. The lights flickered; another explosion rocked the building, nearly sending him to his knees. Regaining his balance, he darted through the abandoned and open checkpoints, laughing at the security system as it tried and failed to boot up. Someone had hacked into the system, and had taken out all the smart parts of the Skull’s security; now the checkpoints were next to useless. He rounded the corner and headed to the cell at the far end of the hall. It was there that he hit a snag. With the security system crippled, the locks had opened, but not the doors. He looked around, patting at the wall until he found the panel that hid the manual override. He grinned and used it to force the door open; he struggled with the weight of the door, and got it open just in time for the electricity to go out. Cursing, he stumbled and bumped into the doorframe as the door was pulled into the wall. The darkness they were thrown into was so thick, it felt like it was a solid mass. He fumbled for the flashlight on his stolen belt. “Oh, _shit_!” He had a split-second to realize what was happening before Bucky knocked him on his ass with a one-armed tackle. The flashlight skidded away in the darkness. He hadn’t even managed to turn it on.

“Goddamn it, Barnes,” Tony hissed, slapping at Bucky’s shoulder. “Do you _always_ have to try and kill me? Is this our thing now?”

Bucky raised his arm, ready to strike as the emergency lights turned on, bathing them in a dull, yellow, light, clearly not recognizing Tony’s voice. He glared down at Tony, still straddling his waist, and then burst into laughter, a grin spreading across his face. He grabbed Tony’s mask and yanked it off. “You _fucker_!” He thumped Tony on the chest. “I can’t believe you got out!”

“Yeah, well,” Tony grumbled, shoving Bucky off of him and onto the floor. “I’m a genius, remember? I mean, Steve helped and everything, but I did all the real work,”

Bucky snorted. “Oh yeah, sure. Where is he, by the way?”

“He’s standing behind me, you _boob_ ,” Tony grumbled, struggling up. He grabbed Bucky by the arm and hauled him upright, pointing him towards Steve. “There he is. Good as new – well, partially new. New-ish? Is that a word?”

Steve stood frozen in the hallway, his expression hidden by the mask over his face. “ _Bucky_?”

Bucky eyed Steve cautiously, his expression turning unreadable. “Hey,” he said, still standing beside Tony. “You’re uh… looking _different_ today,”

Tony gave Bucky a playful shove, sending him staggering towards Steve. “Oh come on,” he said, with a chuckle. “You’ve seen him before. It’s not like he’s grown a third head or turned into Godzilla. All he did was grow up. Well – that part’s _debatable_ , but you get what I mean.”

Bucky grinned and leapt forwards, wrapping his arm around Steve’s middle. “Hey,”

Steve fumbled with his mask, yanking it off so roughly it came away with strands of his hair still stuck to the rubber. He dropped it to the floor and wrapped his arms around Bucky, tucking his face into Bucky’s throat. “Bucky – you’re _alive_ ,”

“I told you,” Tony muttered, turning away to give them privacy. He squashed down a wave of jealousy as they hugged. It wasn’t fair to be miffed about their grand reunion, he told himself. He pulled his radio off of his belt and held it up to his ear, listening to the chatter coming through with the static. The voices sounded scared enough; he was pleased that the Skull’s people weren’t as cool and controlled as they had made themselves seem. He stepped off to the side and changed channels on the radio, moving down the hallway towards the nearest checkpoint. Hm. He would need to find Bucky’s arm at this rate. It sounded like everyone was in the hallways, and if he had to guess, it was going to be hell getting through the mass of guards and scientists if they were being herded backwards away from the explosion. They would need all the hands they could get.

“Hey,” Bucky grumbled, reluctantly letting go of Steve. “ _Tony_ – don’t just wander off, you lug,”

“I’m not wandering off,” Tony groused. “I’m looking for a computer to work my magic,”

“You going to get me my arm back?” Bucky asked, perking up. He looped his arm around Steve’s shoulder again. “Or are we still going to blow it up?”

“Your arm?” Steve stared blankly at Bucky in confusion. The look turned to horror when he realized that Bucky’s arm was indeed missing. “What happened to your _arm_?” He pulled away enough to get a better look at Bucky and started poking and prodding him, moving from bruise to bruise, his lips pulled in a thin grim line.

“It wandered off and no one turned it at the lost and found office,” Bucky said with a shrug. “I’ll tell you about it later when we’re not in this shithole. And before you ask, the rest of me is fine. I’m just a little banged up, that’s all,”

Steve scowled. “Is this from the same guy that got Tony?”

“Yes,” Bucky said, prying Steve’s hands off of his shoulder. “But we have more important things to worry about. So what’s the verdict, Tony? Are we blowing my arm up or what?”

“Blowing your arm up? Tony,” Steve growled, glaring in Tony’s direction, “You said you had a bomb planted in the building, not a bomb buried in Bucky’s goddamned arm!”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Tony grumbled.

“It is too!” Steve snapped. “You can’t just blow up someone’s arm!”

“It’s cybernetic – it’s made out of metal. What’s the problem?” Bucky asked, confused.

“Well no one told me that!” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well you know _now_ ,” Tony grumbled.

“That’s not the point!”

“Enough,” Bucky said, smacking Steve in the shoulder. Steve rocked back on his heels from the blow, looking startled. “Look, I get that you’re not happy about being kept in the dark, but can we focus, please?”

Tony pursed his lips, looking from the still blaring the radio to the hallway and the doors that were nearby. There had to be a working console around here _somewhere_ ; electricity was up and running again, so it stood to reason that some of the machines working should still have access to the mainframe even with SHIELD meddling with the security system. “Get me to a computer and we’ll find your damn arm,” he said.

“Right,” Bucky said, leading them down the hallway. “The guards rushed off in the middle of dropping off dinner, so I don’t think we’re going to run into anyone on the way there. They were bitching about some Avengers or whatever the name was,”

“Good,” Tony said with a grin. “If the Avengers are here, we’ll be fine. Was it a left here, or a right?”

“Three rights and a left for the labs, four lefts and a right to get to the server room and security HQ,” Bucky said. “Which do you want?”

“Where do you think there’ll be an unattended computer and the least amount of guards?” Tony asked, tucking the radio away.

“I’d bet that the labs have cleared out by now,” Bucky said, turning them right. “There’s a small rest room off the main workspace – I saw one of the nurses come out of it when they dragged me in for questioning. It’s probably empty. There was a computer in there, I think,”

“Is it out of the way?” Steve asked.

“Definitely,” Bucky said with a nod. “It’s small – one of those rooms where people go to nap while they’re on break – but it’ll be a good place to hide. The rest of the techs are probably heading for the exits right about now, so I don’t think they’re going to be getting in our way. If your group is causing chaos on the other side of the compound, everyone with guns should be over there,”

“What about the Skull?” Tony asked, as they approached the hallway leading to the labs.

“He’s going to be out there beating the living shit out of whoever he finds,” Bucky growled. He pointed out the door and yanked it open, revealing a small room filled with cots; there, nestled in the corner was a desk and a laptop, still booted up. “I guess that’s your cue to get working,” he said, ushering everyone inside. He shut the door behind them and locked it, shoving a bookshelf in front of the door for added protection.

Steve sat down on one of the cots, looking lost. “So it’s all real?”

“What is?” Bucky asked, perching on the corner of cot beside Steve.

“The Red Skull lived,” Steve said.

“Oh,” Bucky sighed. “That. Yeah, that bastard’s still breathing alright,”

“He didn’t believe me when I told him,” Tony grunted, settling in a rolling chair. He pulled the laptop closer and smirked, finding it still logged in. He could have hacked it easily, but it was always nice to save time. He ran through the system, checking to see how connected it was with the rest of the facility. He let out a low whistle. “Boys, I think I just found out what heaven looks like,”

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions had never been Tony's favourite activity- until now.

The security cameras connected to the Skull’s system were _fantastic_. Their resolution was so low, he could barely make out anything and what he could see was blurry as hell. He squinted at the feed and tried to decide who was more of an asshole: the Skull, or the jackass who had installed the cameras. He could make out blobs of pink, black and yellow on the outside of the base and some of them _sort_ of looked like Avengers and SHIELD agents. It was hard to tell who exactly said agents or Avengers were, though, so the footage wasn’t much help aside from providing the comforting thought that SHIELD and the Avengers were indeed there, pressing through the crowd of blurry _probably_ -Hydra lumps. He picked out the Red Skull’s magnificent red blob of a head at the front lines and noted that the Skull was fighting a blonde and creamy blob which may or may not have been holding a hammer.

“So where’s my arm?” Bucky asked, leaning over Tony’s shoulder to get a better look at the laptop. “What the fuck am I seeing here?”

“Well,” Tony said, “These _appear_ to be the security camera feeds. The Skull cheaped out, so while I would _love_ to be able to pick it out of the air for you, I think I’m going to have to go through their records to see if they wrote down where they left it,”

“You think they labeled it and left it in a box somewhere?” Bucky snorted.

“Correction. I’m _hoping_ they labeled it and left it in a box somewhere,” Tony said, diving back into Hydra’s files. Basic searches were unfruitful, he learned after pulling up the query window for the umpteenth time; there was a system in place within Hydra’s crumby network and it seemed to work, but it didn’t seem like anyone other than the lab technicians had been _using_ it. Worse yet, most of the people who _had_ been using it had been using it _wrong_. He was fairly certain that if he had been their System Admin, he would have been bald already from ripping out his hair. “I want to take this _clusterfuck_ of a database outside and burn it,”

“I take it the files are a mess?” Steve asked with a cough. He rested his elbows on his knees.

When Tony glanced over, he saw that Steve looked like he had been running for miles without stopping. He wondered idly just how much energy it took to maintain Steve’s body now that it was serum-free; the guy looked like he was ready to drop dead, so either Steve hadn’t gotten enough or he had just plain run out of energy already.

“A mess would be easier to search,” Tony said, clicking his way through a list of cotton swabs and tongue depressors. “But from what I can see they seem to have kept most of their entries in the right categories… ah here we go.” He dragged the cursor over to a new folder labeled Mechanics and found the arm’s entry nestled amongst a list of wrenches and back braces. “It’s in room 730,” he said, tapping the screen.

“Where’s the map?” Bucky asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Tony pursed his lips as he pulled up a map of the complex from Hydra’s servers. “Oh goodie. We have yet another problem,”

“Which is?” Bucky grumbled, leaning heavily against Tony’s shoulder.

“They didn’t include the room numbers,” Tony said, nudging Bucky away from a particularly tender bruise. He squinted at the map, cursing Hydra’s horrible workmanship and enlarged the top level until it couldn’t get any bigger. “Oh great – they included the numbers, but those numbers are on crack. According to this, room 730 is on floor two,”

“There’s a second floor?” Bucky asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I thought this joint only had the one floor,”

“It does,” Tony grunted. “They labeled everything _ass-backwards_. I’m going to have to try and hook into the bomb’s energy signature to get at it. I was hoping I wasn’t going to have to do that,”

“Why? Is it too much work?” Bucky teased, slinking away to sit down beside Steve.

“Oh no, it’s _real_ easy – if we were in a building that wasn’t a cement bunker with jammers in pretty much every inch of it. Obviously there are a few pockets where the signal gets through – again, they’re incompetent but that part’s probably a good thing because the trackers in me are how the Avengers found us – but since I don’t have any scanning equipment on me, things are going to get tricky,”

“You’ve still got trackers in you?” Bucky sounded surprised. “I thought they scanned the shit out of all of us,”

“Oh please,” Tony snorted. “I’ve been kidnapped so many times now, it’s not even a challenge to hide them anymore,”

“You’ve been kidnapped more than once?” Steve asked, looking up sharply. “When did that happen?”

“Uh, didn’t you read my file, Spangles? I’m pretty sure it’s all in there in triplicate,” Tony said, frowning at Steve. “I guess I can give you a preview. There was Afghanistan, and then of course there were the ten or so times I got nabbed as a kid – Dear old Howard never _did_ pay the ransom for that last one, now that I think about it. I got out of that one on my own. I miss my pliers – those things were _awesome_ , but I never could get them out of that wall.”

Steve looked _floored_.

“You _really_ didn’t know?” Tony asked. He glanced away from the computer as the security footage booted up again.

“Fury mentioned Afghanistan,” Steve murmured, “But he didn’t go into details and I didn’t ask,”

“You didn’t want to _know_?” Tony chuckled. He had expected Steve to know everything – the guy had always seemed a little too high strung to let anything go without getting a look at it.

“I didn’t want to seem like a busybody,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Natasha told me it was be better if I heard it from you. She said the reports didn’t have all the details,”

“They didn’t,” Tony said, sweetly. He had hacked into the files to check what SHIELD had written about him and most of what he had found had been just plain wrong; no one seemed to know about what The Ten Rings had done to him when he had refused to build them weapons, and he had been more than happy to keep it that way. He hadn’t wanted their sympathy, _or_ their padded cell.

“So did you find it yet? Or are we going to sit around at this bake sale forever?” Bucky grumbled.

“What do you think this is? A Walmart?” Tony snorted. “I can’t just type in _Bucky’s arm_ and find it through magic,”

“So what are you waiting for? Look for it! You two can chat about the good old times when we get home. I want my _arm_ ,” Bucky grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said. He stopped typing slowly, lifting his hands up away from the laptop.

Yep – that wasn’t right at all.

The _floor_ was vibrating and despite the fact that Hydra had been the ones to build the place from the ground up, he was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to be doing _that_. He pulled up the feed from the cameras in the hallway and leapt up from the chair, kicking it out of his way. He flew at the door, dragging the temporary barricade away with strength he hadn’t thought he had possessed; he was out the door and diving into the hall before Bucky could even yell at him to get back inside. He ran down the hall, hoping he wasn’t too late.

He wasn’t. The War Machine was still standing in the middle of the hallway, likely in the process of scanning the building for heat signatures. Tony spread his arms, ready to grab at the armor, grinning so hard, his face was starting to hurt. He stumbled, slipping on a puddle of unidentifiable viscous fluid and sailed into War Machine’s shiny chest. “ _Rhodey_!”

“ _Tony_ ,” Rhodey said, his voice emotionless as it came through the modulator. “Don’t just sneak up on a guy like that!” He flipped the faceplate up and scowled down at Tony, all the while wrapping his arms around Tony, pulling him into a bruising hug. “You _bastard_! I’m going to wring your goddamned neck!”

“It’s great to see you too,” Tony said, laughter bubbling up. “Weren’t you on a mission?”

“Fuck that,” Rhodey grumbled. “I came back early when I heard your ass was in trouble – as always,”

Steve and Bucky came barreling around the corner with Bucky swearing a blue streak. They skidded to a halt when they saw Tony wrapped up in War Machine’s embrace; Steve recognized the armor for what it really was, but Bucky, having never seen the armor before, looked like he couldn’t quite parse what he was seeing. He stepped forwards as if to try and make a grab for Tony and then hesitated when he saw that Tony was busy making grabby hands at the briefcase strapped beneath the Gatling gun on the War Machine’s back.

“You are a beautiful man, Rhodey,” Tony said. “ _I love you_. I’ve told you that before, right?”

Rhodey scowled harder. He wrestled the briefcase off of his back and handed it over. “Save the mushy stuff for Pepper,”

Tony flipped the briefcase over, pulling off his gloves with his teeth so he could press his thumb against the lock. “She’s going to wring my neck too, I bet,” he said as the briefcase slide opened, revealing the most beautiful thing in the world – the Iron Man. This wasn’t the latest version of the briefcase armor, but it was good enough to withstand what Hydra had at their disposal. Tony grinned and stuck his arms into the gauntlet ports, standing perfectly still as the armor enveloped him in its calming embrace. It was a little looser than he remembered, but it still fit like a dream. He let the faceplate close over and turned to Steve and Bucky, saluting them. “Fuck that computer, he said. “I’ll find your goddamned arm with my sensors,”

Bucky eyed the armor, shifting in place as though he expected to be attacked. “Are _all_ of your friends robots?”

“Rhodey’s a human,” Tony chuckled.

Rhodey side-eyed Bucky and Steve. “Are these two idiots _yours_?”

“Yep,” Tony said as Jarvis booted up. “I made them myself. Now, let’s see – scan for the mark x17jpL microBomb serial 170365965jppl2,”

“You remember the serial number?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why am I not surprised,”

“Yeah,” Rhodey said, putting his faceplate up again. “He’s a real computer whizz,”

“Very funny,” Tony said, searching through data as it was pulled in by his sensors. “This is so much faster – oh _baby_ , why did I leave you at home again?”

“You realize they can _hear_ you, right?” Rhodey asked, his voice mumbling in Tony’s ear. He was on a private channel, probably catching up with the rest of the Avengers in the background, and for once he didn’t sound hassled. Tony wondered who had called Rhodey in and who he was working under this time.

Had SHIELD contracted out this time?

Or was the army lending the War Machine out to make sure its creator and maintainer stayed alive?

“Yeah, I know. Fine, I’ll use the comms,” Tony said, turning his comm on. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen – how’s the Hydra smashing going?”

“Stark?” Natasha’s voice was so piercing and loud it made Tony wince.

“ _Jeeze_ , are you trying to make me go deaf,” Tony muttered back. “We’ve got Steve and Bucky with us – and of course Rhodey,”

“Obviously,” Rhodey grumbled through the line. “No one else is trained to find your dumb ass,”

Tony snickered. “Yes, well, you’ve had years of practice. They’ll learn.”

“Sure, Stark,” Clint chuckled. “It’ll be in the training manual soon enough,”

“They’ve got you in it already,” Tony snorted. “I’m so much easier to understand – and prettier,”

“ _Right_ ,” Natasha said with a sigh. “Status?”

“We’re good, all things considered. How’s the Skull doing? Is he still getting his head beat in with Mjolnir?” Tony asked. He skimmed through the sensor data and found, to his delight, that Bucky’s arm and the bomb in it were within range.

“Tony? Did you find the arm?” Steve asked, tapping Tony on the faceplate. He coughed into his arm and gave Tony a concerned frown before looking around him at the rest of the hallway. “Hello?”

Tony patted Steve on the head just because he could; the suitcase armor wasn’t heavy compared to his usual suit but the touch still made Steve wobble in place as thought he was made out of rubber. Tony knew he shouldn’t press his luck, but the indignant look on Steve’s face was far, far too precious to see only the one time. “I found the damn arm – _relax_ , Steve,” Tony said, making sure he was projecting his voice into the hallway. He had a feeling Steve wouldn’t appreciate being left out of the loop for much longer, even if it was so Tony could talk shop with Rhodey.

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve sighed, grasping Tony by the wrist. His hands were too small to wrap around it entirely. “Can you knock it off?”

“Knock _what_ off?” Tony grunted, scowling. Did Steve _always_ assume he was screwing around? Or was today just _special_?

“Never mind,” Steve said, letting go of Tony’s wrist. He shuffled his feet. “Look, are they going to get us out of here anytime soon or should we get walking?”

“I’ll ask,” Tony muttered. He relayed the message and tried not to wince when five different voices told him to ask again later when they weren’t doing something important. “I guess that means we need to dig our way out of this hellhole on our own,” he muttered into the hallway.

“Just so you know,” Rhodey muttered into a direct line to Tony. “Pepper’s here and she’s _not_ happy,”

“She’s _here_? _Here_ here? Or waiting-with-SHIELD-agents here?” Tony fought off a wave of anxious nausea and threw himself into scanning the building, this time searching for Pepper. It was no use; the suitcase armor’s sensors were good, but not good enough to stretch the entire base. The War Machine’s sensors, on the other hand, were far better. He dove into Rhodey’s uplink with Jarvis’ help, and stole an aerial scan of the compound, layering it over the map he had pieced together with his own scans. He was pleased when things matched up, but didn’t stay happy for long. There were gaps in the map where rooms existed in Rhodey’s data but didn’t exist in his own, and Pepper wasn’t appearing _anywhere_. His gut twisted; he trembled in the armor, sweat dripping down his face. They could have _him_ , but they couldn’t have Pepper – never her, or Rhodey, or, he realized with a dull pang of fear, Steve. “What’s going on? I’m not reading her on the grid, Rhodey,”

“That’s because she borrowed some armor,” Rhodey said, flicking Tony in the forehead. The armor clanked on contact. “She didn’t want to be left behind this time. Happy’s in the Command Centre with Coulson and the other SHIELD eggheads, sweating it out. He wasn’t too keen about being left behind, but he didn’t have much of a say once she got going,”

Tony rubbed at his head and realized belatedly that the flick hadn’t actually hurt. “So she’s fine?”

“As fine as always, although between you and me, I wouldn’t want to get in her way. When she heard what happened she threatened to burn every last Hydra building to the ground. She’s itching to beat the shit out of something,” Rhodey chuckled. Tony could practically hear the grin in his voice.

“But she _hated_ the armor,” Tony said, resting his hand on Steve’s head as thought to bring him into the conversation. “She told me I shouldn’t have rebuilt it,”

“I believe her words were, _if you bring that thing into my living room one more time I’m going to hit you with it_. But that was before she tried it out,” Rhodey said. “Turns out, she enjoys ripping things apart with her bare hands. Go figure,”

“Hey,” Bucky grunted, kicking Tony in the shin to get his attention. He winced and rubbed his foot, glaring at the armor. “Oh god…Remind me not to do that again without shoes,”

“Yeah, that’s not too smart there, Bucky,” Tony grumbled. “We’ll go grab your arm in a bit, just give me a second to figure out where Pepper is,”

“Ms. Potts is here?” Steve tried to shrug out from under Tony’s hand. He struggled against the weight of the armor, his scowl darkening with every second he spent pinned. “ _Tony_ ,”

“It’s fine,” Tony said, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulder, tucking Steve against his side. “I’m going to call back-up.” He switched channels again, connecting his, Pepper’s, Rhodey’s and the Avengers comms together, bypassing SHIELD’s altogether. If they wanted to know what was going on, they could ask Natasha about it later. He wasn’t going to do them any favors today. “Pep? You there?”

“I’m here,” Pepper growled through the comms. Something that sounded suspiciously like tearing metal came through her microphone in the background.

Tony winced. “I take it you’re busy?”

“Not too busy to come over there and smack you,” Pepper said, sweetly. “You’re alright?”

“He’s fine,” Rhodey said, cutting in. “We would like an escort to find an arm,”

“An arm?” Pepper groaned. “How the hell did you lose your arm?”

“It’s not _my_ arm,” Tony sighed. “It’s Bucky’s,”

“And who, might I ask, is Bucky?” Pepper snapped. Something exploded near her; something clattered through her comm.

“Are you ok over there?” Tony asked, still searching for Pepper’s signal. She was a lot easier to pick up now that he knew what to look for; after all, there were only three arc reactors in the vicinity, and two of them were with him.

“I’m fine,” Pepper said, her signal blinking on Tony’s HUD. “ _Who’s_ Bucky? Is he someone you found?”

“Bucky is James Buchannan Barnes,” Rhodey said. “ _The Winter Soldier_ ,”

“The Winter Soldier is with _you_?” Pepper’s voice turned icy. “Why is the Winter Soldier with you? What did he do to you? Are you alright? Do I need to break his face?”

“He didn’t do anything to me,” Tony sighed. It wasn’t a _complete_ lie, more of a strategic omission; he didn’t want to go into the full story while they were in the middle of breaking out. There was no way to know exactly what Pepper or Rhodey would do when they found out what Bucky had done when he _wasn’t_ Bucky. He had a feeling that an ass-whopping was going to come Bucky’s way if he mentioned anything now, and while a part of him knew he would feel a certain satisfaction watching Bucky get smacked for what he had done, he didn’t think he could watch the guy get banged up anymore. He almost liked him now. “He’s a friend of Steve’s, and we’re all escaping together,” Tony said. He read the sensors as Steve squirm against him and sighed. “Hold on. The Captain’s getting cranky. Do you have a spare comm on you Rhodey?”

Rhodey tapped at a square patch on the War Machine’s hip; a panel slid back under his touch, revealing two comms nestled in a padded pocket. They were spares, ones usually left hidden and shielded until there was a real emergency. Tony would have had a few of his own, had he not started building them into the armor well after the model he was currently wearing. Rhodey handed the two comms out, giving one to Bucky and one to Steve.

Steve helped Bucky get his into his ear and then worked on his own, still standing with his hip pressed up against Tony’s; it was odd to have Steve so close considering how uncomfortable the guy had seemed before. Surprisingly, Steve didn’t seem to feel like moving away, even when Tony lifted his arm to let him escape. Instead, he leaned closer against the armor, his cheek squashing against Tony’s chest.

“I’ll be there in a second,” Pepper said through the comms. “Just let me hit this guy with his own gun,”

“Sure,” Tony said. “Take your time,”

Steve shifted slightly, leaning harder against Tony’s side. “Is everyone alright? How’s Natasha and Clint?”

“We’re fine, Captain,” Natasha said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll speak when we’re outside. I need to finish stripping the files from the Skull’s server before someone intervenes and wipes them.” Her comm abruptly went silent.

“It’ll be fine, Cap,” Clint said, into the comms. “We’ve got eyes on everything. No one – not even the Skull – is going to get in here without us knowing about it first. You can relax,”

“Aww,” Tony murmured, dropping his arm back down onto Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t tell him that. I just put him down for his nap. Now he’s going to be all angry again,”

“Very funny,” Steve growled, not lifting his head.

“You ok?” Tony asked, connecting his comm directly to Steve’s. He didn’t like the sallow shade of Steve’s skin, and he especially disliked the way the Captain seemed unsteady on his feet. He gave Steve a quick scan, but couldn’t find anything unusual. He shifted against Steve, lifting him up a bit so he wasn’t quite sliding down Tony’s side. “Steve? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Steve mumbled. “Just tired. And the smell’s… I don’t like the smell,”

“Smell? What smell?” Tony asked, flipping up the faceplate. He sniffed at the air and got a whiff of something heavy and acrid. He didn’t know how he had missed it before.

“It’s the bleach,” Bucky said, moving closer to Steve, his arm held out in case he needed to catch him. “He’s always been kind of allergic to bleach,”

“Kind of?” Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Define _kind of allergic_ ,”

“It doesn’t drop him or make him break out into hives or anything, but it makes him dizzy as hell,” Bucky said. “Is your gal going to get here sometime soon, or what?”

Tony didn’t have the chance to answer. A door on his right was yanked rudely off its hinges and then hurled out into the hall so hard it lodged itself there in the wall. Tony grimaced; he recognized that throw, although he hadn’t ever seen it do that much damage. Usually it was just a pair of errant shoes being whipped across the room, or on one memorable occasion, a box of cookies that had beamed him in the back. A suit of armour similar to the Iron Man but smaller and leaner, gleaming in red and silver, stepped out through the doorway, dusting its gauntlets off. Tony had built the Rescue armor for Pepper months ago, but he hadn’t ever seen it in action outside of testing; it was sleek, built for agility and had magnetic powers that could be used as shields, or, as it appeared Pepper had figured out, used as tearing implements. The Rescue armor stomped towards Tony, its faceplate snapping up as it got closer. “ _Anthony Edward Stark_ ,” Pepper growled, her eyes flashing.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Tony winced.

“You can’t just disappear on me again!” Pepper swept forwards and pulled Tony into a brutal hug, nearly squashing Steve between them in the process. Tony patted her back, his armor clinking against hers, letting their foreheads bang together.

“Sorry,” Tony said, making sure Steve was safely tucked beside him and not in any danger, “I kind of got side tracked,”

“I know,” Pepper said with a soft smile. “He seems a lot taller now, although I’m pretty sure he used to be bigger before you guys went on vacation.” She looked Steve over, frowning at his pale skin and turned to glare at Bucky, who shrank back as though threatened with a bullwhip. “So _that’s_ the guy who –”

“Nahnanana –” Tony said, glancing at Steve. “Don’t,”

Pepper frowned unhappily. “ _Tony_ ,”

“Not now, alright?” Tony sighed, rubbing his face with his gauntleted hand. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now we need to be escorted to Bucky’s arm,”

“Are you hurt?” Pepper asked, her unhappy frown turning on Tony. “You’re standing funny,”

“Maybe,” Tony said, sheepishly. “But I’ll be fine. It’s just a bunch of bruises and stuff,”

“And possibly fractured ribs,” Bucky said, ducking behind Rhodey. “And a _definitely_ fractured wrist,”

“A fractured _wrist_? Possibly fractured ribs?” Pepper’s frown morphed into a glare. “You need to be escorted to _medical_ , not to a goddamned _arm_ ,”

“It’s important that I get to it now,” Tony said, scowling in Bucky’s direction. The traitor was going to pay later. “I need to disable the bomb in it before someone sets it off by accident,”

“The _bomb_?” Pepper sputtered, her cheeks going red. “Oh for the love of god.” She turned to Rhodey, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Did he say anything about a bomb to you?”

“No,” Rhodey grumbled. “He most definitely did _not_ ,”

“OK, well, I told you now, _Mom and Dad_ ,” Tony said starting down the hall. “We should probably get going before someone tries to, _oh_ , I don’t know, _stop us_?”

“ _Tony_ ,” Pepper hissed, “Don’t you _dare_ walk away from us. We are having a _conversation_ here,”

“Nope,” Tony said, putting the faceplate up and lumbering down the hall with Steve practically hanging off of him. “We’re walking now. All comments and angry yelling can wait until I’m out of the suit and I’ve had a nap,”

“Tony,” Pepper hissed. “You and I are going to have _a serious_ conversation when we get back home,”

“I know, I know,” Tony said tersely. “Just let me do this before I fall over, _alright_?”

“You’d better not mean that for real,” Rhodey grumbled, giving Tony the evil eye.

“I’m fine,” Tony muttered over his shoulder. “Come on Barnes! Get your ass in gear,”

Bucky sighed and started after Tony. The suitcase armor might have been heavy, but it moved a lot faster than most people did and before Tony knew it, he was halfway down the hall with Bucky jogging after him. Tony reluctantly slowed down and glanced over his shoulder again as Pepper and Rhodey put their faceplates up and followed after him; Bucky waited for them to take up positions on either side of the hall and started moving again, tapping at his comm until he was on a private line with Tony.

“Is there a reason why you’re not telling them what happened with me?” Bucky murmured.

“It’s complicated,” Tony said, looping his arm around Steve’s middle to steady him as he walked. “And believe me when I say I need you alive until we get out of here,”

“Ah,” Bucky said, struggling to keep up. “So they’re _those_ kinds of friends,”

“The bring-the-shovel-and-help-hide-the-body-kind? Yeah – they’re _definitely_ those kinds of friends,” Tony said with a chuckle.

“Alright, well how’s Steve doing then?” Bucky asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. His bare feet slapped against the floor as he walked; the noise was jarring as it echoed in the empty hall. If Tony closed his eyes, he could almost convince himself that it sounded like gunfire.

Tony panned the cameras down at Steve. He didn’t like what he saw; Steve lolled in his grasp until his face was resting against the cold metal of Tony’s neck. Tony hoisted Steve up against his hip so he wouldn’t slide down onto the floor and fretted as Steve’s dangling legs bumped against the armor’s.

Steve didn’t even protest.

“Hey, Steve,” Tony said, giving Steve a gentle shake. “Wakey, wakey, champ.” He waited for Steve to move and then started rocking him back and forth, afraid of shaking him too hard in case Steve was unconscious.

Steve grumbled and opened his eyes slightly. His nose was running and his eyes were dripping; he glared up at Tony, his expression baleful and wiped his nose on his arm. “What is it, Tony?”

“You’re looking a little peaky there, buddy,” Tony commented, consulting his HUD to see how far away from the SHIELD Medical Unit they were. If they rushed, he could get Steve there in under five minutes – assuming that they had a clear path and didn’t have to fight their way through a crowd of angry, homicidal Hydra agents. He turned them down the next hall and pinged Bucky’s arm again. It wasn’t far now. Just a few more feet and they would have it. He ignored the fearful voice nattering in the back of his head – the one telling him he was going to get Steve killed – and pushed on.

“I’m fine, Tony,” Steve said. He sneezed into the side of Tony’s throat and groaned, wiping at his nose. “Oh _god_ ,”

“Yeah, I guess you haven’t been drippy nosed in quite a while, huh?” Tony said. He told Jarvis to keep an eye on Steve’s vitals and followed the next ping to a door marked ‘Canned Fruit’. He scowled at the door. “Canned fruit? _This_ is where they’re keeping a cybernetic arm?”

Bucky chuckled. “Well, they always say you find things the last place you look, and this would be the last place I’d look,”

“You can say that again,” Tony muttered. He tried the door handle and when it didn’t open, kicked the door in, tired of wasting time. He knew his adrenaline wouldn’t last much longer; he could feel it draining way. Each breath he took felt like it was being squeezed out of him. It was lucky that Pepper and Rhodey had showed up when they had. Without the suit – and Rhodey and Pepper’s help – he would have been dead weight by now or lying face down on the floor. With Steve slowly sagging against him, he knew it would have been near impossible for them to make their way outside on their own. Empty hallways were useful, but they still had to be walked through, and even Bucky, ex-Winter Soldier or not, couldn’t carry two grown men out of a building with one arm, no shoes and while wearing a set of scrubs that flapped open at the back every few seconds.

Tony let out a long, slow, breath, and forced himself to ignore the sweat dripping down the side of his nose. Bucky’s arm was easy to spot, even if it was lying amidst a pile of squashed boxes of canned applesauce and stewed tomatoes. It was a little scraped up, likely from when Hydra had tried to take a crack at breaking it down to replicate it, but it seemed no worse for wear. Of course two seconds later, when Tony had it in his hands and was scanning it, he realized that things weren’t going as great as he had thought.

The connector prongs that let the arm attach to Bucky’s body were severely damaged; this wouldn’t be a repair job – this was going to be a whole teardown and rebuild. The idiots had managed to scrape the shit out of the neuro-chips and the lower motherboard had a crack in it. Any decent tech would have known better than to drag something sharp over _those_ two parts. He groaned aloud, holding the arm delicately in his gauntleted hands. Oh hell, they’d even managed to scrape away some of the _soldering_ while they were busy stabbing at the rest of the casing with god-knows-what. The bomb would probably still work with the aid of a remote detonator, judging by the fact that they hadn’t been able to get past the first few screws, but nothing else was salvageable. If he _ever_ found the bastard that had done the damage, he was going to beat them to death with their _own_ arm. “Jarvis, warm up the production line in my workshop and bring up the specs for the original arm. I want a functional copy by the time we get back home,” Tony said, shaking his head. At least this way when they got back the tower, Bucky would have a useable, albeit archaic, arm to use. He would have to build a new one when he had more time.

“So?” Bucky peered around Tony and Steve at the arm. “Hand it over, hotshot,”

“Don’t get too excited. It’s useless,” Tony said, handing Bucky the arm. “They fucked up the connectors and the chips. Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of a brand-new arm-shaped club.”

Bucky stared down at the arm in despair. “You’re _kidding_ ,”

“I wish I was,” Tony said, adjusting Steve against his hip. He gave Steve’s vitals a glance again and noted a spike in Steve’s core temperature. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him want to get moving again. He wasn’t going to risk losing Steve to something as stupid as a fever when they were this close to freedom. “Let’s go,” he said into his comm, turning back to the door. “Medical’s starting to look really cozy right about now,”

“You can say that again,” Bucky muttered. He glared down at his arm. “Why do they always fuck up the pretty ones?”

Tony snorted. “I’m building another arm right now,” he laughed. “Don’t worry about it,”

“Masha’s been with me for so long,” Bucky sighed, shaking his head. He cradled the arm against his chest and followed Tony out into the hallway. “We’ve been through a lot together,”

“You named your arm Masha?” Tony asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Bucky glared at him. “Well what was I supposed to call her?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said, shrugging. “Arm? _Lefty_?”

“You named your pet dog, _dog_ , didn’t you,” Bucky said with a snort.

“Nope. I’ve never _owned_ a dog,” Tony said, getting into formation with Pepper taking the rear and Rhodey taking point. He was happy for the distraction; he didn’t want to think about what would happen when the medics got their hands on him. He looped an arm around Bucky’s shoulder and reeled him in so he was near Steve. “I had a fish once though,”

“Yeah?” Bucky sighed, still glaring at his arm. “What did you call it? _Fish_?”

“I named it Fleecy,” Tony said. He heard Rhodey laughing on their shared comm channel and rolled his eyes even though he knew no one could see him. “Like this is news to you, Rhodey,”

“Doesn’t make it any less funny,” Rhodey said.

“Who names a fish _Fleecy_?” Bucky said, scowling.

“He named his turtle Stumpy,” Rhodey said, snickering. “Believe me, the names only get worse,”

“Hey,” Tony grumbled.

“Your robots are named Dummy and U,” Rhodey said.

“Those are perfectly acceptable names,” Tony said, glaring at the back of Rhodey’s head. “Might I remind you of _Martha_?”

Rhodey froze in mid-step, his foot still in the air. “Leave Martha out of this,”

“Who’s Martha?” Bucky asked, looking between Rhodey and Tony in confusion.

“Martha is Rhodey’s _succulent_ ,” Tony said with a smirk.

“His _what_?” Bucky looked even more confused. “What the hell is a succulent?”

“It’s a type of cactus,” Rhodey grumbled, stomping towards the door. “I’m in the Air Force. Sue me. Succulents can live without being watered. And Martha’s _beautiful_. Leave her alone,”

Pepper sighed over the comms.

“It’s not my fault he doesn’t name things using his brain,” Rhodey said, pushing his way through a checkpoint. He smashed it against the wall when his Gatling gun got stuck on its edge; it looked like he was enjoying the carnage a bit more than usual, although with the faceplate up, it was hard to know for sure if he was grinning or scowling.

“Hey, I didn’t say Martha wasn’t a pretty lady,” Tony said, hoisting Bucky up and over the wreckage of the checkpoint. “I just said you named her Martha,”

“Yeah, well,” Rhodey said, punching a hunk of broken tile out of his way. He kicked the debris away and cleared a path as the building shook around them. “I’ll forgive you if you forgive me,”

“Deal,” Tony said with a grin.

“Is that the Hulk?” Pepper asked, slapping a ceiling tile away from Bucky’s face.

“Yep,” Rhodey said, punching out the next checkpoint. “I guess that means we need to hurry, huh?”

“Probably,” Tony said, hoisting Steve and Buck up against his hips. “I don’t know about you, but I have no intention of being here when he stomps this place into the ground.”

“You know,” Bucky grumbled, tucking his arm against his chest. “I’m going to have to kill you if someone sees me like this,”

“Which is worse? Someone seeing you in the backless scrubs, or being carried like a little kid?” Tony asked.

“I hate you,” Bucky sighed.

“Aww,” Tony said, jumping the last of Rhodey’s wreckage, “You know you love me,”

“Sure,” Bucky said with a snort.

“Don’t tell him that,” Rhodey said into the comms. “Now he’s going to believe it. You can’t stroke his ego like that. He’s going to be impossible to be around now,”

Tony snorted. “Oh, like I was such a sweetheart before,”

“Chatter,” Steve groaned into the comms, squeezing his eyes shut. He leaned his face against Tony’s chest again, sniffling wetly.

“Alright, Cap,” Tony said, softly. He didn’t like that Steve was ordering him around, but he knew why he was doing it. He had missed Pepper and Rhodey; hearing their voices made him feel whole again, but now wasn’t the time to catch up. He grimaced and counted out the distance again, keeping an eye on the map in the corner of his HUD. “Hold on, alright? We’ll be in Medical in no time.”

 

 

Medical was crowded by the time they made it through what was left of the Hydra base. They hadn’t run into any resistance; most of the guards and soldiers had been drawn outside, lured by the spectacle that was Thor beating on the Red Skull with Mjolnir. It was quite the sight, but there were more important things to do so he rushed by before Steve could notice what was going on around them. He had Jarvis record the fight for later viewing; he could already taste the buttery popcorn.

He set Steve down on an empty stretcher while Bucky hopped up on the one beside it, letting his arm drop onto his lap with a sullen sigh. Rhodey and Pepper stayed to the back of the trailer, keeping their gaze locked solely on Tony; he could see them staring at him through the cameras. He tried to laugh his growing anxiety away, but all that came out was a tired huff.

Steve wasn’t breathing properly. Tony recognized the wheeze; he didn’t need the medics to tell him that something was wrong. He cringed inside the armor as Steve was swarmed by medics, watching as they pulled a clear oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. Steve tried to fight them, not understanding what was going on; he struggled to sit up, his eyes bleary and bloodshot.

“Captain Rogers,” the medic hissed, grasping Steve by the shoulders. “You’re going to make it worse if you struggle,”

“Tony?” Steve rasped, trying to worm his way free. One of the medics grabbed Steve by the chin while a new one, a man who had come up behind Tony carrying a tray littered with supplies, readied a needle with what was likely sedatives. This was probably the first time they would work on Steve in such a low dose. One of the medics turned Steve’s head to the side, and shined a light pen in his eyes, checking his pupils.

“Tony?” Steve called out. His voice was softer, more confused this time.

Tony moved closer despite the chaos, letting the faceplate snap up. “I’m right here,”

Steve smiled weakly. “Oh. Ok. Good – that’s good.” He pitched forwards, coughing, his shoulders shaking violently; the fit lasted for almost a full minute and when it was finished, he seemed completely worn out. He slumped onto the stretcher on his side, his cheeks faintly peppered with pink, his eyes still locked on Tony’s. “I’m ok,”

“I need you move, Mr. Stark,” the Medic at Tony’s elbow said. “We need space to work,”

“Right,” Tony said taking a step backwards. “Sorry,”

“They should be looking at _your_ ugly ass too,” Bucky grunted. A medic slunk around Bucky’s stretcher and started checking him over, her gloved fingers pressing against his bruised skin. He batted the medic’s hand away from the machinery in his shoulder but couldn’t keep her from swabbing the grime off of his face with a wet piece of gauze.

“Do you need medical attention as well, Mr. Stark?” asked the medic who had been restraining Steve.

“Yeah, I probably do,” Tony said. He locked the armor’s knees and leaned against it, aware once more of every last scrape and bruise on his body. He was shaking, he realized, but the tremors were faint, no worse than when he had crashed after downing ten cups of coffee in one sitting. He inputted the suit’s release code and slumped forwards as the armor opened up, nearly clipping the edge of the stretcher with his nose when he fell. One of the medics caught him and steered him towards an empty cot, easing him up onto it with careful, slow movements.

“You know,” Tony slurred, “I think you’ve done this before,”

“Mr. Stark,” the medic said, taking Tony by the chin. “Look straight ahead please,”

Tony gave her the smarmiest grin he had in him. “Like this?” he said, batting his eyelashes when she was done.

The medic sighed and scowled at him. She put the flashlight away and grabbed a pair of shears off the tray beside her. “I’m going to have to cut away your clothing, Mr. Stark,”

“Why?” Tony asked, trying not to panic at the sight of the shears. The way they shinned in the light made them look far too sharp – too real. “I’m fine. I can take my clothes off on my own,”

“I’d rather not aggravate your bruised ribs,” she said, not unkindly. “We’ll go really slowly, alright?”

“I’m not a _child_ ,” Tony muttered, trying not to sway where he sat. It felt like the ground was moving – which it could have been for all he knew. The Hulk was still out there, knocking down the Skull’s base like it was made out of candy glass. He scrubbed a hand over his scraggly beard, wincing as the muscles in his neck and shoulders twitched in protest. God, he was so _tired_. All he wanted to do was sleep for a few days; he would be fine after that. He was safe now, he reminded himself as the medic lifted up a syringe, checking it over. It would be fine; they wouldn’t hurt him. The medic eased him backwards, lifting his legs up so they were on the stretcher instead of dangling off the side of it. He fell asleep as she eased a needle in his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if anything weird pops up! Thanks for reading! : )


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reunion was great - until she showed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note here for mentions about Tony's panic attacks : )

Medical equipment wasn’t _ever_ as whisper quiet as it claimed to be; advertisers were always lying about that kind of thing. Tony had woken to its appallingly loud song so many times now, he could recognize every damn thing running in the room by sound alone. One slow glance around the room told him he was in SHIELD’s private medical rooms, the one place on the Helicarrier that he really, truly hated.

Thankfully, he wasn’t here often, and one trip every few months was more than enough for him. The last time he had been here, he had been visiting Clint after a mission gone wrong and he had bolted through the door the second he was sure Clint would make it, ducking into the bathroom so he could gag into the sink in peace. The stink of blood, gore and bleach had been too much for his stomach to handle, and when they had been swabbing up the halls an hour later, everything had smelled faintly of lemons. Needless to say, he had gone running to his suit to get the hell out of dodge.

Tony moved to sit up, planning on sneaking out of the room before someone could spot him, and found Pepper’s weighty hand on his chest before he could even lift himself an _inch_ above the mattress. He collapsed when she pushed him down and lay sprawled against his pillow, dimly aware that the world was still hazy around the edges.

God, he _hated_ painkillers more than he hated the medical bay.

“So,” Pepper said, dragging her chair closer to the right side of Tony’s bed. She was dressed in a loose blue skirt and a maroon sweater, one that Tony recognized. She had likely borrowed it from the locker he kept on the Helicarrier for emergencies.

Rhodey shifted his chair against the left side of the bed, effectively keeping Tony trapped by blocking all access to the exits; unless Tony wanted to vault over the end of the bed, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Rhodey was dressed in a pair of baggy gray sweatpants and a shirt that said _Property of SHIELD_ across the chest in bold, ugly, stencilled lettering. “How are you feeling, champ?” he asked. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, but to Tony’s disappointment, he wouldn’t hand it over.

“I’m fine,” Tony grumbled sullenly, wishing he had the sweet, sweet taste of coffee to replace the god-awful hint-of-death in his mouth. “But _coffee_ would be nice,”

“You’re hopped up on painkillers,” Pepper said with a sigh. “You’re _not_ getting coffee until you’re off of them – and I mean it this time, Tony. No booze either,”

“I know, I know,” Tony said. “I’ll pass out and die in a puddle of my own puke if I mix meds and booze. I’ve heard the lecture ninety times already. I get it. I just want a _sip_ of coffee, that’s all.”

Rhodey grimaced and handed his coffee over. He waited for Tony to take _exactly_ one sip and then snatched it away, ignoring the disapproving glare Pepper sent his way. “What? This way he can’t complain,”

“He’ll complain anyway,” Pepper sighed.

“You two are so cruel,” Tony grumbled, licking his dry, cracked lips. “So, what’s the damage? What did the Doctors say?” Rhodey’s coffee had been hazelnut flavored, and while it hadn’t _completely_ gotten rid of the bad taste in his mouth, it had certainly made it a little less horrible.

“You’ve were unconscious for almost ten hours,” Pepper said, checking her watch. “The medics on scene knocked you out so you wouldn’t thrash around while they checked you over,”

Tony winced. “It was that bad?”

“You’ve got bruised ribs, a mostly-healed fractured wrist and sixty five different sets of deep tissue bruises shaped like knuckle prints all over your body,” Pepper said, looking distinctly unamused. “They’re recommending bed rest and taking time off of work, but no, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been,”

“So the usual,” Tony said, wiggling his toes just to make sure they were still there. He lifted the blankets up and stared despairingly down at the white and blue polka dot hospital gown they had dressed him in. “Aww, man,”

“That’s the price you pay for being in the medical wing,” Rhodey chuckled. “Hey, be glad you’re wearing anything at all. They could have left you buck-naked,”

Tony forced himself to stay relaxed. The idea of being naked in front of anyone made him want to hurl, but Rhodey had no way of knowing that; hell, Tony wasn’t sure whether he could stand to even look at himself in the _mirror_ anymore, nude or not. He was pretty sure that when he did, he would see flashes of himself in the shower with Bucky, both of them bruised and battered. He didn’t want to remember that – he wanted those memories _gone_. “That’s not funny,” he said, his grin seemingly pinned in place. “It wouldn’t be fair. I’m far too dazzling for my own good,”

“ _Sure_ ,” Rhodey said, cracking a smile. “ _Dazzling’s_ one word for it,”

Tony snorted, feigning indignation. It was a relief that no one seemed to notice that something was wrong, yet at the same time he almost wished they would say something. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.

“Don’t worry,” Rhodey said, patting Tony’s blanket-lump of a knee. “Pepper and I will keep your virtue intact.”

Tony couldn’t help smiling for real. “You say that like I _have_ virtue,”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Virtue or no virtue, you’re still grounded,”

“Grounded?” Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Since when are you allowed to ground me?”

“Since the doctors said you shouldn’t be operating heavy machinery while hopped up on painkillers,” Pepper smiled sweetly.

“Oh, _that_ kind of grounded,” Tony said, flapping a hand at her. “Fine. I’ll put up with your evil for now,”

“Thank you,” Pepper said. “Now, shall we talk about _Steve_?”

“What _about_ Steve?” Tony asked, carefully sitting up. He accepted a pillow from Rhodey and stuffed it behind his head so he could squint at each of them without it being too much of a struggle. He tried to feign obliviousness, but quit the moment they shot him a look that clearly said if he tried to fake his way out of this one, it was going to be more trouble than it was worth.

“He doesn’t remember, does he?” Rhodey asked. It wasn’t really a question, judging by his grim expression.

“I wish he did,” Tony said, quietly. “But you’re right. He doesn’t remember anything. He remembers the fight over the bagel, and that’s pretty much it,”

“Oh,” Pepper said, looking down at her hands. She looked close to tears. “Oh Tony. I’m so sorry,”

“Yeah,” Rhodey said, staring mournfully down at his coffee. “Shit,”

“Well it’s not like I didn’t know it was a possibility,” Tony said with a shrug, trying to make himself at least _sound_ cheerful. “That’s life for you – always there to stick a boot up your ass when you least expect it,”

“When did it happen? The transformation I mean – not the boot up your ass. Did he just switch back?” Pepper asked. She leaned back in the chair, resting her hands on her thighs. “Did the Skull do something to him?”

“Not that I know,” Tony said. “I don’t even know if the Skull even knew Steve was back to being an adult. We broke out before he could get a look at us again.”

“Ah, well, maybe SHIELD’s doctors will figure it out,” Rhodey said. He snorted loudly and exchanged a look with Pepper; they both started snickering. Tony laughed with them, glad that he wasn’t the only one convinced of SHIELD’s incompetence.

“What are they doing with the Captain?” Tony asked after the laughter died down. He sobered at the thought of SHIELD poking and prodding Steve the way the Skull’s technicians had and squirmed uncomfortably under the covers.

“Natasha told me that they’re still struggling to figure out how he’s back to the right age without the serum in his veins – they’ve been doing blood work since we got back to the Helicarrier, but so far they don’t have anything more conclusive than ‘he appears to be Steve Rogers’,” Pepper said. “They’re probably going to come ask you questions about it in the morning,”

“They’re wasting their time. I don’t know what happened,” Tony grumbled, clutching at his blankets. “One minute I was having the shit beaten out of me by the Skull and the next I was being thrown unceremoniously into a cell with Steve. I didn’t see it happen. There wasn’t any big reveal – no fairy dust or sparkling stars.”

“Figures. I heard through the grapevine that they’re interviewing the Hydra technicians to try and puzzle it out, but so far no one is talking. They haven’t been able to get shit out of the security cameras either. I assume you know _all_ about that part,” Rhodey said. He sipped at his coffee, chuckling when Tony gave him puppy dog eyes again. “I’m _not_ giving you more coffee. Stop looking at me like that, you bum,”

“Spoilsport,” Tony muttered.

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Don’t play the cute card, Stark. You’re too old for that.”

“I am not,” Tony said. “I’m the _perfect_ age and I’m always cute,”

“You’re _old_ ,” Rhodey said. “so, so, old,”

“I’m not older than _Steve_ ,” Tony said, crossing his arms over his chest. He glowered at Rhodey, trying not to take him too seriously. “He’s in his _nineties_ – _I’m_ a spring chicken. And you didn’t deny that I’m cute – I believe I win this round,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rhodey said, taking an obnoxious slurp of his coffee so Tony could see he had drained the last of it. “I’m sure _Steve_ will agree with you,”

“Speaking of _Steve_ ,” Pepper said with a knowing smile, “He was pretty worried when they had to sedate you,”

“He wasn’t _worrying_ – he was waiting to rip a strip off of me,” Tony muttered. As much as he would like to think that Steve cared enough to want to make sure he wasn’t a vegetable, he knew it was highly unlikely that the dear Captain wanted to do anything other than yell in his face after the list of his numerous injuries had been written out.

“No, I’m pretty sure he was actually worried,” Rhodey said, glancing at Pepper. “He wanted to sit with you until you woke up. Pepper had to chase him out because he kept glaring at everyone like he thought they were going to poison you or something.”

“That’s normal,” Tony said. “He loves to glare.”

“It wasn’t because he was glaring,” Pepper said, scowling at Rhodey. “He kept dragging his sad little oxygen machine around with him and it kept getting stuck on everything. I thought he was going to disconnect something by accident. I was trying to get him to go back to his room so he could sleep,”

“I don’t get why he’s worrying. He looked me over himself,” Tony said. “Even Bucky looked me over– I’m fine. Why does _everyone_ think I lie about injuries?”

“Because you _do_ lie about injuries,” Pepper said, crossing her long legs over one another. She eyed Tony over top of her knee. “Need I remind you about your brush with palladium poisoning?”

“Ok, point taken,” Tony grunted. “But _this_ time I wasn’t lying,”

“And the doctors backed you up – _this time_ ,” Pepper said, sweetly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,”

“How he doing?” Tony said, scowling. “You said he was carrying an oxygen machine around with him?”

“Steve’s fine,” Rhodey said, glancing at Pepper again. “They’re keeping him on oxygen as a precaution. He’ll be off it in a few hours. He had a mild allergic reaction to the smell of bleach, but it’s cleared up – mostly,”

“What is that?” Tony asked, gesturing to Rhodey. “You two are conspiring about something. I can feel it.”

“We’re worried,” Pepper said, choosing her words carefully.

“You’re worried about _what_? Steve? Me? I told you, I’m fine,” Tony grunted. “The doctors told you I’m fine. I’m _fine_ ,”

“We’re worried about Bucky,” Rhodey growled, crushing his paper cup into a ball. He tossed the crumpled ball into the garbage can beside Tony’s bed, glaring at it as thought it had insulted him by simply existing. “Coulson told me what happened,”

Tony winced. How much had Coulson said about what had happened in the Beach House? He had asked him to keep the information private, but had he? Rhodey could be damn convincing when he wanted to be, and Pepper – well, Pepper didn’t take no for an answer most of the time. He glanced over at Pepper to see if she was about to grill him too, but she just looked confused by Rhodey’s comment. “Ah, I see,” he said, not wanting to inadvertently reveal anything.

“I see? _That’s_ your response to me getting the truth out of Coulson?” Rhodey said. His nostrils flared dangerously. “Tony,”

“It’s not what you think, ok? He was brainwashed,” Tony said, glancing down at the blankets instead of at Rhodey. It was easier to speak without having to see the growing worry in Rhodey’s eyes. His chest felt tight; he tugged at the collar of his scrubs, trying to get himself some air. He didn’t want to slip back into a panic attack again – not here, of all places. “What am I supposed to do? Hate him forever? The guy didn’t know what he was doing,” he said, taking in a long, slow breath.

“He tried to _drown_ you,” Rhodey said. “He almost _succeeded_ ,”

Tony tensed, forcing his eyes to stay open so he wouldn’t have to see the waves again. He could hear the sound of water crashing against the shore, but it was faint still.

“He _what_?” Pepper snapped, bristling. “You didn’t say anything about him nearly being drowned!”

“I wanted to _clarify_ it with him first,” Rhodey grumbled, shifting in his chair under Pepper’s gaze. “I was going to try and get him to tell you himself. You know how it is with him – it’s always one big fucking _secret_ ,”

“ _Rhodey_ ,” Pepper sighed.

“Barnes did a lot more than try to drown him, ok? He threatened Steve – _kid_ Steve,” Rhodey said, his worried expression turning murderous. “He took out the entire team and beat the shit out of Tony under orders from AIM – he’s the reason Tony’s wrist is fucked up – that’s why that mother fucker knew about it. He stood there and acted all _sweet as pie_ with us and he almost drowned Tony with his bare hands!”

Tony took another deep breath. Stay calm, he ordered himself. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm!

Pepper took in a sharp breath through her nose. “I’m going to kill him,”

“Get in line,” Rhodey grunted.

“He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore,” Tony said, holding up his hands. He took a smidgeon of pleasure from the way they were so angry on his behalf and saved it away for later. “He’s just Bucky, now, alright? He knows what he did – he’s sorry. He didn’t mean it – well, he meant it, but he wouldn’t have done it if he had known who the fuck we were,”

“Tony,” Rhodey said, putting his face in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees, “He tried to _kill_ you.”

“He’s Steve’s friend,” Tony said, softly. “And I get it – believe me, I get it. I lived it – I hate what he did too. I have fucking _nightmares_ about it, but we have to sit back and see it for what it was – an accident.” He sighed, running his hands shakily over his sweaty face. He winced when he touched his and swollen eye and dropped his hand back into his lap, flexing his fingers. He had thought long and hard about this. The Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes were two different people. Yes, they shared a face and skills, but that was it. There was nothing to worry about; it wasn’t likely that Bucky was going to jump up one night and strangle someone in his sleep – the Winter Soldier’s personality was gone, and even if it wasn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to ask Steve to give up his best friend – he _wouldn’t_ ask that. “There’s nothing I can do to change what happened. What’s done is done, and I’m not going to take him away from Steve – we can’t do that. Barnes needs a home too and if I have to be the one providing it, I’ll do it, no questions asked,”

Pepper’s stern gaze softened. “Honey, are you sure? You don’t have to bring him back to the Tower if you don’t want to,”

“I know,” Tony said. He let out a groan and slumped back against his pillows. “But I owe him one, so I guess I’m going to have to put up with seeing his smug-ass face everywhere. At least this way I’ll be able to keep an eye on him,”

“You owe him one?” Rhodey frowned. “ _You_ owe _him_ one?”

“You don’t get to hear that story until I’m well and truly shit-faced,” Tony gritted out. “Please. Don’t. Ask.” He didn’t even want to _think_ about it. Sure, nothing truly horrible had happened and the story wasn’t rated R, but he wasn’t exactly happy about the fact that he had been soaped up by Bucky Barnes. If it had been Steve, well, things would have been different. Maybe it would have been – on second thought no. He wasn’t going there. It was probably better to save _that_ particular fantasy for when he _wasn’t_ wearing a hospital gown and in front of his two best friends.

“Alright,” Rhodey said, slouching back in his chair. “I’ll let it go, but what now?”

“I don’t know. I guess it all depends on when they’re releasing me,” Tony said. “I’m assuming the Skull’s all locked up tight, so I can weasel my way out of the debriefing, right?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s not,” Rhodey sighed. “The Skull got away,”

“He _what_?” Tony sat up bolt upright; his back muscles twitched in protest at the sudden move, unimpressed by his sudden burst of energy. He groaned, rubbing at his back with the flat of his hand. “You’re telling me the Red Skull – the guy with the gigantic red noggin that can be seen from space – escaped from SHIELD custody. How?”

“He wasn’t ever _in_ SHIELD custody,” Rhodey said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Everyone was just milling around watching the fight. No one thought he was going to be able to just vanish.”

“Hold on,” Tony said, shaking his head. “Let’s start at the beginning. Thor had him on the ropes – right? I remember that part,”

“Right,” Rhodey grumbled. “Well, Thor was doing fine. He and the Skull were duking it out and while the Skull definitely wasn’t winning, he was holding his own. We thought Thor was going to take him down – he was hitting the son of a bitch in the head over and over again – you know how it is. People get hit with a hammer, they don’t get back up. Everyone figured the guy would drop like a rock after a few more blows, but it didn’t happen. Pepper and I were called in as backup after you were knocked out, but we didn’t get there in time to do much good.”

“He whipped out some kind of experimental gun and fired it into the ground,” Pepper said. “It created some kind of hole – I don’t know what it was made out of or where it went – but it looked almost like there was another world underneath him. All I saw after that was blue lights coming through the suit’s cameras and then _bam_ – the hole in the ground swallowed him up and he was gone, taking the gun with him. SHIELD’s technicians are looking over the readings Jarvis sent them from War Machine and Rescue, but so far they don’t have much to go on aside from the energy output matching the readings they got from something they called the Tesseract.”

“Shit,” Tony sighed. He had been hoping that the Skull was busy enjoying SHIELD’s hospitality, but apparently the Skull was wilier than they had expected. He couldn’t blame Thor for the mistake; it wasn’t like the guy could have predicted the Skull was going to have an escape ray on hand, but for fuck’s sake, why hadn’t anyone thought to get a cage ready? SHIELD knew what the Skull could do if given free reign and now the madman was out there with a raging hate-on for Steve and damn near everyone else. He hoped to god the Skull wasn’t sitting down somewhere trying to work out a deal with AIM. The last thing they needed now was Hydra and AIM teaming up to take over the world. “I take it Steve’s shitting bricks,” he said with a grimace.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Rhodey chuckled, darkly. “No one told him until a few hours after he was chased out of _here_. I guess Fury thought it would be safer for him if he didn’t hear about it until he was breathing properly again. Of course _that_ didn’t go over well. He went stomping off to the Tech guys the minute Fury left, swearing up a storm.”

“Captain Morality was _swearing_?” Tony cocked an eyebrow. “I knew it!”

“Yeah, he’s got quite the potty mouth,” Rhodey said with a smile. “You should have heard him. He told some guy to fuck himself when they tried to stop him from leaving his room.”

“Oh god,” Tony said, putting his head in his hands. “Tell me you got footage of that. Please?”

“They did – and even better, SHIELD’s drones got some very nice imagery from the fight – I had them send it all to Jarvis for you,” Pepper said.

“Oh goodie! At least I’m not going to have to hack into their files to get it this time,” Tony snorted.

“Not this time,” Rhodey agreed.

“I’m assuming Steve’s still there, knocking heads together?” Tony asked. The Captain never had been very good with letting things go when he felt he was being wronged; it wasn’t strictly a bad thing, but in this case it was probably making it harder for him to recover considering he wasn’t lying down and well, _recovering_. Without the serum he was plain old Steve Rogers and Steve Rogers wasn’t that healthy to begin with.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he was,” Pepper said. “You always seem to like the feisty ones, don’t you?”

“Sure,” Tony said, clearing his throat. “ _Feisty_. That’s a good word.”

“I would have gone with cranky,” Rhodey said, “But sure. Feisty covers it,”

“Alright,” Tony said, clearing his throat. He was not going to talk about this now. Nope. Not happening. “So the Skull’s gone. What happened to the rest of his base? Is it still standing, or did the Hulk take it all down?” Tony gnawed on his lower lip. The Skull might be gone, but his faux lab was still a ticking time bomb – _if_ it worked.

“I was just coming to talk to you about it,” Natasha said. She strode into the room, her footsteps dull and muted against the cement floor. She padded closer, nodding once to Pepper and Rhodey and sat down on the edge of Tony’s bed. She handed Tony her tablet and sat back, waiting for him to look at what she had brought, eyeing Rhodey’s shirt. “I didn’t think SHIELD had a gift shop,” she deadpanned.

“It doesn’t,” Rhodey said. “I made it myself,”

Tony snorted loudly into his arm and turned back to the tablet. The file on display was from the Skull’s replica workshop; Tony would recognize those blueprints anywhere. “Did the techs run this, or is it from Hydra’s mainframe?”

“It’s a little of both. I had Bruce check the data over when he was back to being himself, and he said most of the machinery is pointless. It’s close to the original specs, but nothing works,” Natasha said. “Fury wants you to look it over to see if you agree with that statement,”

“Right,” Tony said, skimming through the rest of the files. “Well, from what I saw of it, it looked like a piece of crap, but I’d have to dig around in its guts to know for sure.” He looked up, hearing the sound of wheels rolling down the hallway and barely supressed a groan when he realized what was making the awful noise.

“He should be resting,” Steve said, storming through the open doorway with his dark green oxygen tank wheeling along behind him; he still had the mask on, and while his breathing was raspy, almost rushed, it didn’t appear to be causing him any real trouble. He had been moving too fast for his own good, but in his blind rage, he hadn’t noticed. His face was still pale, his cheeks flushed pink from his rush, but he didn’t look as faint as he had the last time Tony had seen him. He stomped his way towards Tony’s bed, gesturing towards the tablet with one slender finger. “Fury’s files can wait,”

Natasha smiled thinly. “I know you’re upset, Captain, but now isn’t the time for a shouting match,”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Steve roared. He took a moment to catch his breath, bending over with his hands on his knees and then straightened up, his glare so sharp it could have cut glass. “He needs to _rest_ ,”

“ _You_ need to rest,” Tony said, still looking through the files. What he saw made him want to start dancing; nothing here would even be remotely useful unless someone was trying to start a very large fire. He skipped ahead to the mission briefing and read through the report, noting that the incidents at the Beach House had been strategically left ambiguous in places. He wondered if that had been Natasha’s doing or Coulson’s.

Steve snatched the tablet away, nearly dropping it when the smooth edges slid through his fingers.

“Hey!” Tony protested. “I was reading that,”

“You need to rest,” Steve wheezed.

“Jesus, Steve,” Tony said, patting the mattress. “Sit down. I’m getting tired just looking at you,”

Steve opened his mouth to argue and then shut it. He sat without further prompting, settling on the edge of the mattress with the oxygen tank sitting beside his feet. He fiddled with the mask, adjusting the elastic where it was digging into his cheeks and dropped the tablet onto his lap, probably thinking that Tony wouldn’t make a grab for it. He took a deep breath in and then started coughing, his shoulders shaking violently. Tony barely resisted the urge to reach out and hold him. He looked so frail, it seemed like the coughing might shake him apart.

Tony scooped the tablet up and flipped through the files again, ignoring the scowl on Steve’s face. He set his free hand between Steve’s shoulder blades, rubbing a gentle circle until the coughing stopped.

Steve swallowed down another cough and slumped forwards. He was quiet for a while as he focused on his breathing; he glanced at Pepper and Rhodey in turn, giving them a look that said he was still unhappy with them and then spoke, his words choppy. “He shouldn’t still be out there,” he said, with a wheeze.

“I know,” Tony said, flipping to the end of the mission report. He noted the timestamp and handed the tablet back to Natasha, who took it and stood up, easing her way off of the mattress so as not to jostle Steve. “We’ll catch him eventually. We just need to be patient.”

“I don’t want to be patient,” Steve muttered.

“I know what you mean,” Tony sighed.

“I hate to interrupt, but I’ve got to get going. Do you agree that it’s not dangerous?” Natasha asked, standing up.

“Its garbage,” Tony shrugged. “It’s dangerous alright. I wouldn’t turn it on. It’ll probably throw a breaker, kill the lights and nuke someone’s balls, but I don’t think it’ll do much more than that,”

Natasha nodded. “Alright. We’ve got it in lock up, if you want to take a look at it later. When you’re feeling better you can ask someone to show you to it. It’s in boxes for the most part. Clint and I packed it up before the Hulk could get at it.”

“How’s _you-know-who_ ,” Tony asked, not looking at Rhodey or Pepper.

“He’s fine. He’s just happy he’s not locked up in a closet this time,” Natasha said, her lips quirking into a smile.

“Hey,” Tony said as Natasha turned to leave, “The report didn’t say anything about Mabel. Is she alright?”

Natasha turned, her smile growing broader. “You’re worried about the cat?”

“She’s a _nice_ cat,” Tony grumbled. “I’d be a bastard if I didn’t ask,”

“Agreed,” Natasha said.

Steve frowned. “What cat?”

“Mabel. She’s an old-lady cat – lives in the Beach Houses we rented. We feed her,” Tony said, shrugging. “It’s not a big deal,”

“We had a cat?” Steve turned from Tony to Natasha. “You let me near a cat?”

“Of course we did,” Tony said. “She’s a nice cat. A little bitey, but nice,”

“Mabel’s fine,” Natasha said. “She was a little shaken up after the attack, but thankfully the Skull didn’t seem to notice her. Clint found her hiding underneath the porch. You’re going to have to phone and check on the rest yourself, because woman who owns the resort wasn’t all that happy to find out how much damage was done and she isn’t taking my calls anymore,”

“Oh god, did they leveled the place?” Tony asked, wincing. “Tell me they didn’t level the place.” The beach house’s owner, an elderly third generation Asian American woman named Emily Jia, had been hard to win over. She wasn’t happy having visitors around in her resort, but with food to buy and grandkids to put through college, she had been unwilling to refuse the offer of fast cash. Tony liked her. She had seemed nice, despite her grouchy demeanor; he hoped she wasn’t going to yell at him. There was only so much yelling he could deal with in one day.

“They didn’t do much damage, but they did knock out a bunch of the windows and kick in the front door of both our place and Hermann’s. It was strictly a snatch and grab. They didn’t stick around for carnage,” Natasha said. “We lucked out. There weren’t any injuries either, aside from our bruised egos,”

“Well that’s a _refreshing_ change,” Tony chuckled. “Say, do you happen to know when I get out of this joint?” He batted his eyelashes at her. “Because I’m willing to beg if I have to,”

“You’ll have to talk to the doctor yourself,” Natasha said with a scowl, turning back to the door. “I’ll see you at home.”

“Alright,” Tony grumbled. “Fine. Don’t tell me,”

“Tell you what?” Natasha called out, almost out the door. “That you’re a pain in the ass? I think everyone in the room knows that already,”

Tony scowled. “I hate you guys,”

Pepper smiled. “We should get going,” she said, standing up. She gave Rhodey a look Tony couldn’t quite place and then dragged him bodily out of the chair when he failed to understand her. “We’re going to take the suits back to the Tower. We’ll drop you off at home when the doctor signs off on it.”

“Fine,” Tony said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Go on. Leave me alone with Steve, why don’t you,”

Steve sighed. “ _Tony_ ,”

“Uh huh. I’m sure you’re in for a _terrible_ evening,” Rhodey snorted. He yelped and rubbed at his arm when Pepper dug her fingers into it, shooting her a dirty look. “See you later Tony,”

“Yeah,” Tony said, closing his eyes. “See you around.” He listened to the sound of them walking out of the room and tried to decide whether he should sleep or attempt to talk to Steve; both were likely to cause the same result, although the sleeping portion might be a tad safer considering he wouldn’t have to listen to Steve yell at him.

“Did you want me to leave?” Steve asked, quietly.

Tony wiggled across the mattress until he wasn’t taking up the entire width of the bed. “No,” he said, patting the blankets beside him. “You can lay down if you want,”

“I’m fine,” Steve said stiffly, adjusting the oxygen mask. He turned, glancing over at Tony and then stilled, his fingers dancing over the see-through tubing connected to the mask.

“I’m going to nap,” Tony said. “If you want to join me, go ahead. It’s your choice,”

Steve hesitated and then lifted his feet up onto the bed, adjusting the oxygen mask until it wasn’t threatening to slide off his face. He settled down with his head resting on the pillow beside Tony’s, clasping his arms over his belly. He swallowed hard. “Tony?”

“Yep?” Tony sighed, opening one eye. Oh good. The yelling was going to start.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out of there,” Steve said, softly.

Well that was unexpected Tony thought. “It’s not your fault,” he said, patting Steve’s arm. He felt Steve tense under his touch and gradually moved his hand away, letting it drop onto the blankets. “It’s not like we knew the serum wasn’t going to come back right away.”

“I’m still sorry,” Steve muttered. “It was my fault. I should have been more careful,”

“ _Steve_ ,” Tony grumbled. “I hate to break it to you, but there is no way you could have known some crazy bastard was going to shoot you with an experimental serum-draining gun. It’s not like we were on a mission – we got caught with our pants down, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault,”

“I should have known,” Steve said, rolling over onto his side, turning away from Tony. “I should have been watching. It was my fault, and the entire team got dragged into this mess because of me,”

“Steve,” Tony murmured. “It wasn’t that bad,”

“You got captured and tortured by the Skull,” Steve growled. “How was that not bad?”

“The torture was only a teensy, tiny, part. The vacation got me out of doing a lot of paperwork – I have no regrets,” Tony chuckled. He turned, glancing at Steve’s back; Steve’s hair was tousled, still greasy from days without a shower. His shoulders were boney, his body small again in a way Tony hadn’t thought he would ever see. It seemed strange that Steve was here, with him, when there were a thousand other things he could be doing. “You were a really sweet kid,” Tony said, his voice turning soft. “It wasn’t a bad way to spend a couple of months,”

Steve wrapped an arm around his head; his clothing looked like it was hanging off of him. There wasn’t much in his wardrobe that would fit, these days, Tony mused. Everything was built for a much bigger Steve – one with broad, muscled shoulders and a delectable pair of thighs. In his former clothes, he looked like he had simply wasted away.

“I don’t know what to do now. The Doctors don’t know when this thing is going to wear off,” Steve said. “It might _never_ wear off.”

“Well, there’s no sense worrying about it now,” Tony said.

“Tony,” Steve sighed. “You don’t understand. I’m useless like this,”

“You’re not useless,” Tony scoffed. “You’re still _you_ ,”

Steve sighed. “I wish it was that simple.”

“It _is_ that simple,” Tony snorted, nudging Steve in the back of his leg with his knee. “If a jackass like _me_ can go out there every day and fight bad guys, then you can too.” He never had been very good with pep talks, especially when it came to Steve, but maybe this would help. He had never thought Steve would need one. The guy had always seemed like a rock. Maybe he wasn’t as strong as he seemed.

“You’re not a jackass,” Steve murmured.

Tony opened his mouth to disagree and froze.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Tony groaned aloud and prayed that it was the doctor coming to tell them they could go home.

It wasn’t the doctors.

“Steve?”

A tall woman with long blonde hair leaned around the doorframe and peered into the room. Her soft smile turned grim when she spotted Steve lying beside Tony; she swept into the room, ignoring the fact that no one had invited her in and stopped at the end of the bed. Her white bodysuit and gun holsters made it clear that she wasn’t just a run-of-the-mill visitor. This was a SHIELD agent, and a high ranking one at that. “I just got back and they told me you were in the medical wing,” she said, frowning down at Steve. She gasped when got a better look at him, her eyes going almost comically wide. “What’s going on? What happened? Steve? Why are you so small?”

Steve sat up in a hurry, nearly tangling himself in his oxygen cords. He buried his face in her shoulder; she smiled and hugged him, resting her cheek against the top of his head. She stroked his hair as though unsure what else she could do.

“I’m sorry, Sharon,” Steve said, his voice muffled by her shoulder. “I should have called when I woke up. A lot’s happened in the last few days,”

Tony’s heart felt like it had crumpled up in his chest. So this was Sharon Carter. Somehow he hadn’t expected to ever meet her. She was beautiful, graceful in a way that made her hard to ignore; she seemed to glow with confidence. Hell, she practically radiated the stuff. He debated on introducing himself, but when he locked eyes with her, he found that she wasn’t the least bit happy to see him. She was almost _glaring_ at him. He wondered what the hell that was about; he couldn’t remember ever having met her before, and they sure as hell hadn’t ever spoken before now. Instead of speaking, he closed his eyes and turned his head so he didn’t have to watch the reunion; Steve could have all the privacy he wanted. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. They had spent more than enough time in close quarters. Steve deserved a break.

“Oh,” Steve said, straightening up. He reluctantly pulled himself away from Sharon, his cheeks faintly pink. “Uh, this is Tony Stark.”

“I noticed,” Sharon said, her hands migrating to her hips. “I’ve seen the magazines.”

“Tony?” Steve leaned against the bed and gingerly rolled Tony over with a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Sorry. I was trying to sleep,” Tony grumbled, trying not to glare right back at Sharon when she shot him a dirty look over top of Steve’s head.

Steve’s cheerful smile faded. “I just wanted to introduce you to Sharon Carter,” he said, pulling his hands back as though he had been burned.

“Nice to meet you, Sharon,” Tony said, holding out a hand. It was the least he could do without coming off like a complete asshole. He would be polite; he would behave himself. This was Steve’s _girlfriend_ , after all. He was supposed to be polite to her, wasn’t he? He was fairly certain that if he wasn’t, someone was going to give him hell.

Sharon didn’t take his hand. Instead, she wrapped her arm protectively around Steve’s shoulder and started steering him away from the bed. “You really should be resting,” she said, waiting for Steve to drag his oxygen tank along behind them. “You can tell me about what happened in the morning, once you’ve got some sleep. You look like you’re going to fall over,”

Steve glanced over his shoulder at Tony and then turned away. “Alright. I’m supposed to be staying in room 350,” he said with a cough.

“Then let’s go,” Sharon said, leading them out the door.

Tony stared up at the ceiling. He wondered just what he had done to make the world hate him so much; maybe in another life he had enjoyed kicking small, fluffy, animals.

 

 

The next morning, Tony got up bright and early and snuck out of medical. It was a stupid decision, considering the painkillers had worn off hours ago and his entire body was throbbing in agony, but he needed to get as far away from Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter as possible and this was the only way to do that. He found Pepper and Rhodey waiting for him on the Helicarrier’s deck; they both looked tired and more than a little bedraggled, but they didn’t seem all that surprised to see him.

“Tony,” Rhodey said. He was carrying two cups of coffee and he idly sipped at one as he waited for Tony to get closer. He handed Tony the other cup in his hand and turned back to Pepper. “You owe me ten bucks,”

Pepper sighed wearily. “Fine. I’ll give it to you when we get back to the Tower.” She looked Tony over, obviously not appreciating his backless gown any more than he did. “You couldn’t stop and find some pants on the way?”

“I _could_ have stopped for pants,” Tony said, strutting towards their waiting helicopter, “but then my coffee would be cold.”

“And your junk being cold didn’t factor into that decision at all?” Rhodey asked with a snort. He pulled off his jacket and slung it over Tony’s shoulders. “I brought you a change of clothes, by the way. You’re welcome,”

“Thanks,” Tony said, hugging the jacket a little tighter. The wind out here was _freezing_.

“So what’s with the early morning flight?” Rhodey asked, hooking his arm through Tony’s shoulder. He followed Pepper as she made her way towards the helicopter, his steps blessedly short so Tony could keep up. “I take it you and Steve didn’t make nice-nice like planned?”

“Hey,” Tony said, scurrying into the helicopter before the wind could lift the bottom of his scrubs up and flash-freeze his ass, “I tried. It’s not my fault his girlfriend came to find him,”

Pepper frowned. “His _girlfriend_?” She settled down in the seat beside Rhodey, patiently ignoring Tony when he handed her his coffee and started rooting through the duffle bag he assumed contained his clothing. “I thought he was single,”

“Apparently not,” Tony said, pulling out a pair of sweatpants. He pulled them on, ignoring the way Pepper wrinkled her nose at him when he accidentally flashed her. “Oops,” he said, worming his way into the sweatpants.

“It’s fine. God knows we’ve all seen it all before,” Pepper said, leaning back against her seat as the helicopter took off.

“Oh _good_ ,” Rhodey said dryly. “I thought I was the only one who got flashed by him on a regular basis,”

Pepper chuckled into her hand.

Tony rolled his eyes. “It scares me a little that you two creeps keep count. You are sad, sad, people,”

“Only when you’re not around,” Pepper said with a soft smile.

Tony ducked his head and went back to staring into his bag.

“So Steve Rogers has a girlfriend?” Rhodey sounded shocked. “I thought the guy was too _busy_ for that kind of thing,”

“Apparently he found the time,” Tony said with a grunt. He fished out the shirt Rhodey had brought him and glared at it. “Really? Hello Kitty?”

“She’s a classy lady,” Rhodey said, sipping his coffee. “Complain louder – I don’t think the people of Manhattan can hear you yet.”

“Jerk,” Tony said, pulling the gown off. He stuffed it into the duffle bag and quickly yanked the shirt over his head, noting Pepper’s cringe at the sight of his bruised torso. “I’m fine. Remember? The Doctors said I was fine,”

“It doesn’t look fine,” Pepper scowled.

“Yeah, well,” Tony grunted. “The Skull was pulling his punches. If he had wanted to do worse, he would have,”

“That’s not reassuring me – at all,” Rhodey muttered. “He’s still out there,”

“I highly doubt he’s going to come walking through the front door – at least not now that Steve’s a big boy again,” Tony said, settling against his seat. He stared out at the skyline at it went by, leaning heavily against the window, wishing he could feel cold metal against his skin so it would dull the ache in him. The Skull was going to be a problem alright, but he wasn’t the only one bad thing in Tony’s life right about now. Tony sighed and shook his head. He was going to have to get a hold of himself, and fast; he couldn’t keep pining like this. Steve really did have a girlfriend. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that Sharon Carter was real, but having seen her with his own two eyes, he was forced to admit that there wasn’t much hope for him, not with the way Steve had looked at her. He hunched his shoulders, stuffing his hands into his pockets. What rotten timing! He had been _this_ close…

“Maybe they’re not really together,” Pepper said, leaning forwards. She squeezed Tony’s knee to get his attention. “Did he actually _say_ that they were dating?”

Tony frowned. “ _Technically_? No. He didn’t say anything about her aside from her name,”

“That sounds like you still have a shot,” Rhodey said. “I mean, assuming you don’t like, light her house on fire or sign her email address up for a bunch of spam,”

Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yes. Let’s avoid doing that, please.”

Tony sighed. “I don’t know,”

“Well, put it this way. He hasn’t said _no_ yet, has he?” Rhodey said.

Tony’s frown deepened. “That’s… true,”

“So go for it. Woo him,” Rhodey said.

“Woo him? What are you, four?” Tony snorted.

“I agree with Rhodey. If he doesn’t like you, then he doesn’t like you, but that doesn’t mean you should just give up. If he hasn’t said he’s not interested, he’s still available,” Pepper said, handing Tony back his lukewarm coffee.

Tony pursed his lips, stroking his chin. Actually, that wasn’t a half-bad idea. It wasn’t like he had to do anything hard. It was a little flirting, right? He could handle _that_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know if you spot anything weird!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flirting was a lot harder than Tony remembered....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you spot anything weird! The next part should be up sometime within the next day or so : )

Nope. He couldn’t handle flirting, even after years and years of solid practice; he didn’t even get the time to plan how to  _ start _ . One minute he was in his workshop running tests on the replica of Bucky’s arms to make sure its structural integrity was sound and the next he was face to face with a furious looking Steve. 

The smile Tony cracked didn’t smooth anything over; in fact, it might have made things  _ worse _ .

“ _ What _ are you doing down here?” Steve asked. They had taken him off the oxygen, but he still sounded a bit wheezy, like he might start gasping for air at any second. Someone had gauged his condition as acceptable, though, because here he was, ready to bring hellfire and brimstone and god knows what else down on Tony for not lying face down on his big, comfy bed upstairs. 

There was an upside to Steve’s visit; there was no Sharon Carter anywhere in sight, and while Bucky was standing there in the corner, leaning up against the glass workshop wall, he didn’t look like he was enjoying himself. 

“I’m working,” Tony said, still trying valiantly to smile his way out of trouble. “He needs an arm, right?” 

Bucky perked up at the mention of his arm; he slunk over to inspect what would be his new limb, seemingly oblivious to Steve’s growing irritation. “You’re supposed to be napping,” he said, stealing the arm clean out of Tony’s hands. He looked it over, pleased with what he saw, lined it up and snapped it place with a squeal of pain.

Tony flinched. “You know, I haven’t had a chance to tinker with the pain receptors in there yet,”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it,” Bucky said. He flexed his new arm, wiggling his fingers. His eyes widened. “Hey, that’s not bad,”

“It’s a crappy prototype,” Tony snorted, turning back to his worktable. “The real one will be  _ way _ better,”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve said. He grabbed the back of Tony’s chair and spun him around until they were face to face again. “You shouldn’t even be down here. I don’t care if you’re busy working on prototype arms – you’re supposed to be _resting_ ,”

“I’m not doing anything labor intensive,” Tony muttered, trying not to snap at Steve. Sure, he was a little sore and his wrist was still healing, but he hadn’t been down here all that long. Jarvis was keeping an eye on him, and he had even done the responsible thing and set up a timer to make sure he didn’t stay down here all day. “Pepper and Rhodey gave me permission,” he said.

“I know they gave you permission. But they didn’t want you down here for  _ three hours _ ,” Steve said, planting his hands on his hips. “ _ They’re _ the ones who sent me down to get you, you know,”

Tony blinked sluggishly. Pepper and Rhodey had –  _ oh _ . He grinned into his hand and closed down the programs he had been tinkering with. At least that explained how Steve and Bucky had gotten past security. “Well, I guess for  _ you _ I can go upstairs,” he said with a wink.

Steve squinted at Tony. “What?”

Shit.

Nope.  _ That _ hadn’t worked at all.

“I should probably take a nap,” Tony said, backpedaling as fast as humanly possible. He jumped up and rushed past Steve, but couldn’t move fast enough to escape the withering look sent his way. He jabbed his finger into the elevator button so hard it hurt and wondered why he had even  _ attempted _ flirting with Steve. He would need at least a thousand hours of sleep before he tried again; the last thing he wanted was for Steve to see him sleep-deprived, drooling and mumbling nonsense. Still wincing, he stumbled inside the elevator and ordered Jarvis to take him back up to the penthouse before he could make things worse by opening his mouth again. He was, unfortunately, shit out of luck. Bucky wrestled his way into the elevator before the elevator doors could close, wedging himself in the doorway, blocking the doors so they couldn’t close. He gave Tony a look that clearly said he thought Tony had lost his mind.

“What are you doing?” Tony hissed, trying to shove Bucky out of the elevator.

“I’m holding the door,” Bucky said dryly. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You know Rhodey and Pepper are up there, don’t you?” Tony said with a grunt. There was no getting away from Bucky now, but maybe he could be distracted with good old fashioned fear.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky said. “I met them both already. They have a very nice murderous glare thing going for them. I think I _like_ them,”

“They want to murder you, and you’re not even concerned,” Tony grumbled, leaning heavily against the elevator wall. “Why am I not surprised?” He cursed Bucky’s lack of self-preservation and glanced around him, wondering if he could get away with ducking under his arm and making a mad dash for the emergency stairs.

“Who _doesn’t_ want to kill me these days?” Bucky chuckled. He stepped out of the way when Steve strode stiffly into the elevator and leaned up against the wall beside Tony, glancing down at his metal fingernails as though they were somehow new to him. “So this arm is pretty awesome. When can I expect an upgrade?”

Tony rolled his eyes. It figured. _Everyone_ wanted an upgrade. “I’m going to need a few days. I’m not supposed to be _working_ , remember?”

The doors to the elevator closed with a chime.

Steve scowled, crossing his arms over his chest; the look he shot Tony would have been far more formidable when he was pumped full of super-serum. Now he looked more adorable than imposing. “Damn right you’re not supposed to be working. You’re going to sleep for the rest of the day – and you’re going to eat,”

“ _Bossy_ ,” Bucky said, smirking at Steve. He leaned over and whispered loudly into Tony’s ear, “I think that means he _likes_ you,”

Steve’s face and neck went beet red. “Bucky!” He smacked Bucky in the left shoulder and recoiled with a yelp, clutching his hand against his chest. He glowered at Bucky’s shoulder. “Son of a _bitch_!”

“What?” Bucky said. He glance down at Steve’s hand and then at his shoulder, recognition slowly dawning. He snorted loudly, tried to muffle it and then burst into laughter, wiping at his eyes with his flesh-and-blood hand. “Oh god. That’s _awful_. That shouldn’t be funny,”

“Yeah,” Tony said, edging away from Bucky. “ _Right_. Funny. Yes.” Was this _normal_? Or had he just not noticed that today was jam-packed with crazy?

The elevator doors opened; Tony made a break for the kitchen, flying past Steve who looked a little bit like he was going to wind up and take another swing at Bucky.

Tony found Pepper sitting at the breakfast bar. She looked up from her newspaper when she heard him approach, and took a sip of mocha from her mug. “Why are you running?”

“No reason,” Tony said, meandering towards the fridge. Coffee was a good idea right about now – coffee would make _everything_ better.

“No more coffee for you,” Pepper called out, her attention back on her newspaper.

“You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my real dad,” Tony grumbled, sullenly. He yanked open the fridge with a sigh and gave the creamer a gloomy look before plucking a plastic jug of mixed-berry juice from the door pocket. He sighed wearily when it turned out that the juice wasn’t coffee in disguise. Oh well. Pepper was probably right, although he’d never admit _that_ out loud. If he was going to sleep any time soon, he was going to need to let the caffeine drain from his system; he had already downed four cups of sugary sweet coffee today, and if he kept inhaling the stuff, he probably wouldn’t ever be able to shut his brain off long enough to sleep.

He glanced over at the breakfast bar and spotted the glorious, still-steaming cup of mocha sitting near Pepper’s hand. Maybe she would let him steal a sip if he played nice; a sip wasn’t a full mug, after all. What harm could it do? He strolled over, sipping at his juice and slid his hand across the table towards Pepper’s unattended mug.

Pepper chuckled, lowering the newspaper enough to look Tony square in the eye. “You know, you can’t really use that excuse _every_ time you don’t want to do something.” She pushed her mug towards him with a smile. “You may have exactly _one_ sip – and it better be a sip and not a chug or you’re going to be in trouble,”

Tony grinned impishly and sat down on the barstool beside Pepper; he let his feet dangle against the metal rungs and took a slow pull of Pepper’s savory mocha, making it last. He watched Steve and Bucky as they stepped out of the elevator and walked into the kitchen, the mocha still held tightly in hand in case Pepper tried to cut his sip short.

Steve looked like he was on a mission to reclaim his dignity. His ears were still faintly pink, but the rest of the red had drained from his face, leaving it as grim as always. He walked up to the breakfast bar and eyed Tony’s choice of meal, clearly disapproving of it. Tony got the distinct impression that he was going to be shadowed until he decided to actually lie down for a nap; he wasn’t sure whether he should be happy about that or not. The thought of Steve watching his every move made his heart flutter, yet at the same time it made him extremely nervous. If he was going to fuck up, now would be the time.

“What?” Tony said, setting the mocha down. He took a dainty sip of his juice. “It’s fruit. It’s _healthy_ ,”

“You should really eat something solid,” Steve said with a sigh. He glanced at Tony’s throat as Tony swallowed and then looked away, his ears turning a darker shade of pink. He strode over to the fridge, intent on opening it. Of course, that didn’t work out so well; normally, Steve could open the fridge with his _pinkie_. Today, he struggled to pull it open and then turned around to glare at Bucky, as though daring him to say something.

Thankfully, Bucky knew better than to crack a joke. He whistled cheerfully to himself and dropped down onto a bar stool beside Pepper, stretching out like a cat who had just finished a very pleasant nap in the sun. “I aint sayin’ nothin’” he drawled.

Pepper wasn’t thrilled by her new neighbor. She lowered the paper in order to glare at Bucky and then lifted it back up when she was satisfied that he had understood her. “Why are you here?” she asked, flipping to the sports section.

“Steve’s making breakfast,” Bucky said, drumming his metal fingers on the countertop. “I plan on mooching some of it.” The click, click, click of his fingers hitting marble made Pepper’s left eye twitch; Bucky didn’t seem to notice.

Pepper lowered the newspaper in order to glare at Bucky’s hand.

Bucky sighed, letting his fingers rest on the countertop. “What?”

“She doesn’t like _tapping_ ,” Tony murmured, reaching for Pepper’s mocha. Unfortunately, this time she wasn’t so willing to let him have any; she pulled the mug away and sat it on the other side of the counter so Tony couldn’t reach it unless he planned on lunging for it.

Steve pulled the fridge door open; it squealed. He grinned triumphantly and stuck his head inside, searching for breakfast foods.

Bucky tapped his fingers idly on the breakfast bar, humming under his breathe; the resulting clanks seemed deafening.

Pepper lowered her newspaper and turned her glare on Bucky. “Don’t test me, _pal_ ,” she growled. She snapped the newspaper back up and went back to reading; she was sitting so rigidly, it almost looked like she had been carved out of stone.

Bucky let out a loud sigh and rested his chin in his hands and his elbows on the countertop. “You know, I think I’ve gotten warmer receptions in _Antarctica_ ,”

Tony grimaced. _That_ had been, without doubt, the _stupidest_ thing Bucky could have said. Even _he_ knew better than to bait Pepper this early in the morning without having a box of chocolates, or at the very _least_ , a maple flavored doughnut on hand.

Pepper slapped the newspaper down on the table so hard, both Bucky and Tony jumped. “Listen here, you _punk_ ,” she snarled. In heels she was taller than most people, and right now she was a good three inches taller than everyone in the room; she was more than willing to use that to her advantage. She rolled up her sleeves, each move methodical and precise and stood up so she could _tower_ over Bucky. She jabbed him in the middle of the chest; her fingernails were a deep blood red, and while they were blunt, they were long. Her eyes flashed with rage. “If you so much as _blink_ at him funny, I’m going to go get my suit and rip your goddamned arms and legs off. Do you _understand_ me?”

Steve peered around the side of the fridge door, his eyes going wide. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Tony said quickly, praying that Pepper would take the hint and save the rest of her death threats for another time. He was fairly certain that no one had told Steve what had happened on the beach and he was planning on keep it that way; the less they talked about it, the better. Steve didn’t need to have that imagery bouncing around his head. It was bad enough the guy had woken up in a prison cell. “They’re just _joking around_ , _right_?”

“Right,” Bucky said. He nodded to Pepper, his face draining of colour. “Sure. I’ll behave – I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die – and all that jazz,”

“ _Good_ ,” Pepper said, sitting down again. She snapped her newspaper up and went back to reading the financial section as thought nothing had happened.

Steve frowned at them and disappeared back behind the fridge door. “Who wants eggs?”

Tony sighed into his smoothie and tried to remember what breakfast had been like before Steve and Bucky had come into his life. He was pretty sure it had been far less dangerous and far more boring.

 

 

Tony ate everything Steve put in front of him and then slunk off to his bedroom before Steve could try and force him to eat more. He wasn’t hiding – _nope_. He was _regrouping_. It was a purely tactical decision. He crawled into his nest of blankets, burrowing underneath and let out a long, loud yawn. Well, statistically, things _could_ have been worse; they could have been attacked by super villains or dragged off to a debriefing. Today had actually been pretty good. No one had stabbed anyone, and nothing had been on fire when he had left the kitchen; with any luck, things would stay nice and peaceful, and he would be able to try again with Steve tomorrow without crippling their friendship beyond repair.

Tony closed his eyes. He smiled into his pillow. It was nice to be in his own bed again; no one was going to drag him out of bed and beat him here – not unless he asked nicely. He was finally home – finally, _blessedly_ , safe.

Someone knocked on the door.

Groaning, Tony sat up and disentangled himself from his blankets. “Come in,”

Steve pulled open the door and stepped inside, glancing around as if he expected to see someone other than Tony in bed. “Hey,”

Tony flopped back onto his blankets and groaned into his pillow. Great. What had he done _now_? “What’s up?”

“It’s nothing, really.” Steve sat down on the edge of Tony’s bed and wiggled his toes in the carpet. “I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for Bucky,”

“It’s not a big deal,” Tony said, waving an arm blindly. “I’ll call the contractors when I wake up and get everything started,”

“Contractors?” Steve frowned. “What contractors? Why do we need contractors?”

“We need contractors for his floor,” Tony said with a jaw-cracking yawn. “He’s going to be living here, isn’t it? That means he needs a place to stay,”

“Oh! _Right_ ,” Steve said, scratching the back of his head. He cracked a grin. “You don’t need to rush, you know. I’ve got a guest room in my floor and he can just use that. It’s really, uh, _big_ ,”

“Full floors tend to be large,” Tony said, dryly. He rolled over onto his side and glanced at Steve over the ridge of blankets. “Speaking of floors, you’re probably going to want to sort through all the stuff on yours.”

Steve looked perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“You _haven’t_ been to your floor yet?” Tony asked. He sat up again, running his fingers through his hair so he didn’t look like a complete and utter slob; he couldn’t hide the dark bags under his eyes, but he could handle the tangled, greasy hair – at least for now. “Right. Ok. Maybe I should go with you then,”

“Tony,” Steve chuckled, “You were going to sleep, remember?”

“Sleep can wait,” Tony said, muffling a yawn with his arm.

“No,” Steve said, pushing Tony back into bed.

Tony wobbled and sank back into the blankets, blinking owlishly up at the ceiling. “What was that for?”

“I’ll tell you what – I’ll wait for you in the living room. When you wake up again,” Steve said, patting Tony’s shoulder, “We’ll go down to my place together and sort through everything.”

“The suspense is going to kill you,” Tony mumbled into his pillow, his eyelids already drooping.

“I’m sure it will,” Steve chuckled, standing up. “Just get some sleep, Tony.”

“You could sleep here too, you know,” Tony said. “If you wanted,”

Steve paused in mid-step; he glanced back at Tony. “I shouldn’t,”

Drat.

Shot down – again.

Nice job, Stark.

Tony heaved a sigh, not bothering to lift his head. “Alright – it’s cool,”

“Get some sleep,” Steve murmured. “I’ll see you later, alright?”

Damn it! He was supposed to be good at this! Of course, it had probably been a little presumptuous to invite Steve into bed ten minutes after they had finished breakfast, but it wasn’t like he had pulled his pants down and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Tony muffled a sigh. He needed to fix this and fast. Stupid, stupid stupid! “Sure. If you need anything, just ask Pepper or Rhodey. They know where everything is up here,” he croaked.

“Alright,” Steve said with a nod. He paused in the doorway and turned around so that he was looking at Tony again, his face half hidden by shadow. “You can tell me anything – you know that, right?”

Tony lifted his head, squinting at Steve. “Uh, alright. _Sure_. If I think of anything I’ll let you know,”

“Right. Ok. So uh, I’ll be out here when you need me – when you’re _awake_ and we’re ready to get to work,” Steve corrected himself hastily, slipping out the door. Considerate as always, he pulled the door shut behind him.

 

 

When Tony emerged from his room a mere seven hours later, he found Steve by following his snores. Steve was curled up on a couch in the living room with Bucky by his side, his nose buried in the soft, padded, leather; he was draped over the arm of the couch, looking a little like he was going to slither down onto the floor. The others were just as easy to find. Pepper was sitting on the couch beside Steve with her feet in Rhodey’s lap; her knitting needles clacked as she worked on a new potholder that would undoubtedly turn into a toilet seat cover judging by how big it had grown. She looked up when she heard Tony approach and smiled serenely at him, the aggression from the morning gone.

“How long has he been out?” Tony asked, perching on the arm of the couch beside Rhodey.

“He’s been out ever since you went to sleep. He must have been tired,” Rhodey said with a shrug.

Bucky snorted. “It’s nothing to worry about. He always sleeps like the dead,”

Tony frowned. “Really? All the time he’s been here, he doesn’t usually get more than four hours a night. Hm. Must be the serum,”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, ruffling Steve’s hair. “He used to sleep pretty deeply even when we were out in the trenches. Maybe it was the stress,”

Steve stirred but didn’t wake. He burrowed deeper into the arm of the couch, his snores growing louder.

“Speaking of food, it should be here soon,” Rhodey said, adjusting the ball of yarn in his lap so the strand Pepper was working with wouldn’t slip out of his hands. “We took the liberty of ordering take-out while you two were having your sleeping beauty contest,”

“Sounds good,” Tony said.

“It should. You’re paying for it,” Rhodey grinned.

Tony rolled his eyes. “And that’s a surprise? I’m _always_ paying for food around here. The day you guys pay for food is the day I die from a heart attack.”

“Oh please. You’ve got boatloads of cash to spare,” Rhodey said. “I don’t think any of us _could_ foot the bill. Everyone here eats at _least_ their weight in food every day. I know I’d be broke after living here for _ten_ minutes,”

Tony chuckled. “Alright, alright. Point taken. What did you order? Anything good?”

“We ordered a crap-load of Thai food and a deep dish pizza for the boys from Brooklyn,” Rhodey said. “We got the spicy stuff, so I figured it would be a good idea to get something for their weakling tongues,”

“Hey,” Bucky grumbled. “I’ve eaten Thai food before,”

“Oh yeah?” Rhodey cocked an eyebrow. “ _Real_ Thai food or _mall_ Thai food?”

“ _Real_ Thai food,” Bucky growled, his eyes glinting. “I bet you fifty bucks you’re going to be sobbing way before I am,”

“You don’t _have_ fifty bucks,” Rhodey snorted.

“Hey Tony,” Bucky said, still glaring at Rhodey.

“What?” Tony laughed.

“Lend me fifty bucks, will you?”

 

 

The smell of Thai food and pizza brought Steve out of his deep slumber in record time; Tony enjoyed watching him sniff his way into consciousness. Steve looked so _sweet_ and wobbly, his body still heavy with sleep. The smile on his face was bordering on deranged.

Tony picked out a chair in the dining room and sat down, sprawling with his elbows on the table. He grinned when Pepper handed him a plate loaded up with Pineapple Rice, Pad Thai and Thai Pepper Steak. “Thanks,” he said.

“You’re very welcome,” Pepper said with a smile. “And thank _you_ for lending Bucky fifty bucks. I can’t wait to see this disaster get on the road,”

Tony smirked. “Same here.” He waited impatiently as Bucky and Rhodey settled in chairs across from each other. They were using the biggest plates Tony owned, and both were loaded up with identical, super-sized portions of spicy Thai food. He wondered who would crack first – Bucky or Rhodey. Really it could go either way. The curry they had ordered usually set his mouth on fire just by _smelling_ it, and both Rhodey and Bucky had a decent sized bowl of the stuff sitting beside their plates. With no milk in sight, it was going to be a painful fight to the finish.

Steve circled the dining room table, shooting furtive looks his plate as though he expected it to be snatched away. He hovered beside Bucky and then turned and stalked away, seeming to know better than to get too close to the battle.

Tony patted the chair beside him, hoping to get Steve to sit down beside him; he was startled when it worked. Steve darted around the table and sat down, settling with his plate within reach of Tony’s hand.

Huh.

Maybe he was making some progress after all, Tony thought with a smile. “So who do you think’s going to win?” he asked. He pointedly ignored his food even though the smell of it was making his mouth water, his attention solely on Steve.

Steve shrugged, glancing over at Bucky. “I don’t know about your friend, but I’ve seen Bucky eat some crazy stuff during the war. He’s pretty good with eating contests,”

“Yeah, but was the food ever _spicy_?” Tony asked.

Steve pursed his lips. “Not really,” he admitted. “Usually it was pretty bland. They used to use the chipped beef from the mess tent,”

“Ah, well, while that sounds delightfully disgusting, it’s not even close to what they’re going to be eating now. See that bowl over there?” Tony said. He made sure to gesture with the arm that was the furthest away from Steve’s plate; as expected, Steve shifted in his seat, but this time instead of shying away, he turned to glance where Tony had pointed.

“What is that stuff?” Steve asked.

“That, my friend, is green curry,” Tony murmured. “It’s the hottest thing they have on the menu,”

“Oh jeeze,” Steve muttered, eyeing the bowls with trepidation. “That’s a pretty big portion,”

Tony chuckled. “Oh yeah. If they start with that, they’re both going to be gonners before they’ve even started. The place we order from makes it extra, _extra_ spicy if you ask nicely, and Pepper _always_ asks nicely,”

Bucky glared at Rhodey over his plate. “Alright. Let’s get this show on the road,” he said, picking up his fork.

Rhodey did the same, glaring back at Bucky. “Go ahead. Take a bite, Barnes,”

Bucky didn’t even blink. He dove into his meal without comment, stuffing a chunk of Pepper Steak into his mouth; he chewed thoughtfully, and then continued chewing as his eyes began to water.

Tony cackled and started in on his own food. Everything was as good as expected, although the Pepper Steak wasn’t quite as spicy as he remembered, which was a bit of a disappointment; he nibbled his way through the next few pieces and then stabbed at one and set it on the only empty space on Steve’s plate. Wooing might have been hard before, but he knew what to do now that they were around food; if he was right, Steve was going to be, _figuratively_ , eating out of the palm of his hand.

Steve gave the chunk of Pepper Steak the evil eye.

“Try it,” Tony said. “It’s not bad. You’ll be fine,”

Steve glanced warily at the cube of meat and then at Bucky, noticing that some of it was also on Bucky’s plate.

“It’s fine,” Tony repeated, dividing the mound of Pineapple Rice on his plate into four blobs. “Trust me. I’m not going to send you to the hospital for shits and giggles,”

Steve sighed and popped the piece of beef into his mouth. He chewed deliberately, his eyes widening when the full flavor hit him. “Oh,” he mumbled. He wiped his mouth daintily on his napkin. “That’s pretty good,”

“I told you so,” Tony laughed. He went back to demolishing the rest of his dinner. He was surprised when he looked down at his plate later and saw that he had left behind small portions of everything Pepper had given him. He smiled to himself, remembering the way Steve had grinned widely when he had been slipped extra food as a kid. He wondered if he could get away with doing the same thing now that Steve was an adult again.

Steve, it seemed, was quite happy with everything that had been on his plate. When Tony looked over to see if he was finished, he found that Steve had practically licked his plate clean.

That was definitely a good sign. He slipped a scoopful of pineapple fried rice onto Steve’s plate, trying not to be too obvious about it.

Steve turned, attracted by the movement and stared down at his plate. He seemed amazed to see that there was food still there, but he didn’t question how it had arrived on his plate. He scooped it up and ate it with relish, licking the prongs of his fork clean before turning back to watch the eating contest; he looked far more satiated once he was done.

It was startling to see how much food Bucky and Rhodey had devoured so far; they hadn’t quite cleared their plates, but they had done a damn good job of clearing off space. Tony smirked to himself, trying not to burst out laughing. Their tongues had to be _burning_ by now. Both Rhodey and Bucky had started to go more than a little red in the face. Neither of the contestants had made it to the green curry yet, but it was clear now that both of them were planning on powering through the rest of their meal, even if it killed them.

Tony maneuvered his last scoopful of Pad Thai onto Steve’s plate.

Steve turned in his chair, eyeing his plate again.

Tony smiled and reached for a spring roll.

Steve glanced from the food on his plate to Tony. “Why are you feeding me?”

Tony shrugged, biting into the spring roll to try and buy himself time. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just used to it,”

Steve scowled at the plate. “You don’t have to feed me – you know that, _right_?”

“I know,” Tony sighed, wiping crumbs off of his mouth. “Sorry.”

Damn it!

He had failed _again_. He should have known better than to push his luck. One extra bit of food had probably been Steve’s limit; the guy had so much goddamned _pride_. Tony rubbed a hand over his forehead and rounded up the last of the Pepper Steak on his plate with his fork. He froze when he saw that Steve was still watching him. He worried for a moment that he was about to get yelled at, but after careful scrutiny, he realized that Steve’s expression was more _curious_ than angry. Fuck it, Tony thought. One last shot couldn’t make it any worse. He held the fork out to Steve. “You want this?”

Steve looked down at his plate where the scoopful of pad Thai was still waiting patiently for him. “Are you _sure_?”

Tony rolled his eyes and set the forkful of beef down on Steve’s plate. “I saved it for you,” he said, licking grease off his fingers. “Of course I’m sure.” He turned in his chair to watch Bucky and Rhodey continue their eat-off, or whatever it was they were calling it, leaving Steve to make up his mind.

The view over the top of Steve’s head was pretty good, all things considered. The game was close to over; Tony could see it, even if the competitors couldn’t.

Rhodey’s ears were starting to turn a lovely shade of brick red. His nose was dripping almost continuously, and while he was still busy shoveling food into his mouth like he was starving, he was starting to slow down. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he was close to going head first into the table. He stared at his plate for a full minute, swaying in place, and then glared at the remaining food. He stabbed at the Pepper Beef and crammed it into his mouth.

Pepper sighed and shook her head. “You boys and your games,” she grumbled.

Rhodey looked up from his food, his gaze weary. “Oh, like _you_ could eat all of this,” he mumbled through a mouthful of spicy shrimp and beef.

“Alright,” Pepper said. She stood up and scooped herself a bowl of the green curry. Her bowl, however, was almost _twice_ the size of theirs. She smiled at them and stalked over to sit beside Rhodey, making herself some space at the table with an elegant sweep of her arm. She picked up a clean spoon and held it over the bowl. “Are you two _man_ enough to try the curry now? Or are you going to chicken out on me?”

Bucky hoisted up his spoon, ready to accept the challenge.

Rhodey did the same.

The three nodded in unison and started eating.

Tony couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. He had seen Pepper eat green curry at least a half a dozen times now, and he knew damn well she could polish off an entire container on her own without touching as much as a drop of milk to sooth the sweet, _sweet,_ burn. She locked eyes with him as she ate another spoonful of curry, her eyes sparkling with mischief, her smile turning downright devilish.

Poor, _poor_ Rhodey. By the time he was finished his first spoonful of curry, he was outright _wheezing_ ; snot was running down his chin and his eyes were so watery it looked like he was one step away from crying. He sniffled and stared in horror at Pepper, his next spoonful of curry held aloft with trembling fingers.

Bucky wasn’t doing much better. He had managed about the same amount of curry as Rhodey, but once it had gone in and he had swallowed it things had gone a little _differently_. He had his tongue out and was fanning at it as tears and snot ran down his cheeks.

Pepper finished the bowl of curry with a smug, self-satisfied, sigh. She held her bowl out to Tony. “Be a dear and get me some more, will you?”

Tony grinned and scooped her another helping, making sure to fill the bowl up to the top. She accepted the bowl with an even wider smile than before and dug in again, powering through as if she was eating chocolate pudding instead of spicy curry.

Tony leaned back in his chair, content to watch Rhodey and Bucky wince with every spoonful Pepper ate.

“That’s _terrifying_ ,” Steve murmured. He watched in awe as Pepper finished off the last of the curry. She licked the spoon clean and then crossed her arms over her chest, watching as Bucky and Rhodey tried to unsuccessfully choke down a few more mouthfuls.

“Yeah, Pepper loves her spicy food,” Tony snickered. “She’s the reason why we always order the green curry,”

“I take it they didn’t know that?” Steve asked, eating the last of the food on his plate.

“Nope. Somehow, I don’t think they would have mouthed off if they knew she could eat the entire damn container all in one sitting. Pep’s got a stomach of steel,” Tony chuckled.

“No, no,” Pepper said, patting her stomach. “It’s lined with _lead_ ,”

“My mistake,” Tony said, saluting Pepper.

After a few seconds of prolonged agony, Rhodey calmly set his spoon and bowl down on the table and shoved his chair back, hurling himself at the fridge so hard he almost bounced clean off the door; Bucky darted after him, leaving his bowl spinning in his wake. They fought for the jug of milk and then took turns pouring themselves glass after glass until they were both panting and wearing the most absurd looking milk moustaches Tony had ever seen.

Pepper smiled and picked up a piece of pizza, nibbling at it. “That’s not so bad. We should order more next time,” she said.

Bucky and Rhodey dove for the milk.

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their visit to Steve's room didn't go as expected...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know if there's anything weird in here! : )

Pepper tasked Bucky and Rhodey with washing the dishes as punishment for losing the eating contest. They labored away, still sweating from the spicy food, throwing mutinous glances over their shoulder every once in a while as if that would convince Pepper into let them use the dishwasher. Once everything was cleaned, dried and put away, they rode the elevator down to Steve’s floor. Tony bounced nervously on the balls of his feet, anxious to get a look at Steve’s room again. It had been a long time since he had been here last, and he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. 

Well, that wasn’t  _ entirely _ true. 

He had done all the shopping for the kid, so he knew every damn  _ thing _ in the room; it wasn’t going to be a mystery. He just didn’t know where everything had been left after their hasty departure. Hydra’s hunt hadn’t left them with much time to clean up after their final round of colouring. He knew that the main rooms were relatively clean. He had checked the security cameras before they had stepped into the elevator to make sure they weren’t going to walk into a disaster zone when the doors opened up again, but since he had agreed to keep the Avengers private lives, well,  _ private _ , he didn’t know much more about the state of Steve’s floor than that. He hadn’t installed cameras in any of the bedrooms so he had no way of knowing what Steve’s looked like. 

He knew there were toys waiting for them – a lot of toys. He had made sure Steve had had the best of the best and had spent more than was perhaps _reasonable_ , buying the kid whatever he had wanted. He had even gone through every specialty toy catalogue he had been able to get his hands on to make sure everything was just right. Ok. Truth be told, he had probably spoiled the kid a bit, but it wasn’t like he had bought the kid a _pony_. And yes. Ok. He had offered – Steve had never taken him up on it.

The elevator doors opened;  _ pop goes the weasel _ started playing to signal their arrival. The change in chime was something Tony had implemented after Steve –  _ Kid Steve _ – had confessed in him that the old chime had scared him. It had reminded the little guy of the bell they had rung at the doctor’s office when they were calling a new patient to come up to the window, and Tony hadn’t thought it was fair to leave the chime the way it was after hearing  _ that _ story. He hadn’t wanted the kid to live in fear every day of his life. Tony’s eyes filled with tears at the memory; he turned away and waited for it to pass, hoping no one had noticed.

Steve frowned, clearly not understanding why _Pop goes the weasel_ was playing on repeat. He allowed Bucky to drag him out of the elevator and glanced around his floor, checking everything over. “I don’t see anything weird,” he said, turning to Tony. “I thought you said the suspense was going to kill me,”

Tony smiled softly. “That’s because we did everything in your room, not out here,”

Bucky snorted loudly. “Oh boy. That sounds creepy,”

“Ok,” Tony chuckled. “Admittedly, that was a bad choice of words, but that’s where all the good stuff is, so let’s go, shall we?” He led the way, clenching his hands so he couldn’t rub them together in glee; he didn’t want to look like a complete whacko, after all.

Steve’s bedroom door opened easily, sliding across the carpet with a soft swish. Tony stepped inside, hitting the lights and waited with his back pressed against the wall. This was it. Steve was going to love it here.

Steve stepped into the room and stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes going as wide as dinner plates. “Oh dear _god_ ,” he gasped, looking around. “What the hell did you do to my _room_?”

Bucky gave a low whistle and bumped his shoulder against Tony’s as he walked past. “Jeeze, do you think there’s enough stuff in here?”

Tony hated to admit it, but Bucky might have been right. The room was packed with stuffed animals, toy chests, colouring books and countless other things; it was surprisingly tidy still, although there wasn’t much left of the floor for them to walk on or see. The place was drastically different from when Steve had first moved in; for once, it looked a home instead of like an _occasionally_ occupied hotel room. The walls had been repainted a soft baby blue, and there were stenciled drawings of the Avengers taped up, waiting to be painted on. Tony was rather proud of them, truth be told. He had made them himself; Natasha had helped hang them, but neither of them had been able to convince the kid to make a decision about where to put the final product.

Steve stumbled into the middle of the room, glancing at everything he passed with growing horror. The stacked pyramid of stuffed animals was so high it hit the ceiling, and there, resting at the top of the pyramid in a place of honor was a stuffed Iron Man. It stood out, a deep crimson against the baby blue walls, proudly surveying its kingdom.

Tony grinned at it. “It’s _beautiful_ in here,”

“It’s _something_ alright,” Bucky chuckled. He picked up a colouring book from the teetering stack on what had once been a neat and tidy table and flipped through it. “Hey,” he said, holding the book out to Steve. “Look. You even coloured it in the same way you used to. That’s _freaky_ ,”

Steve gaped at the colouring book. He snatched it out of Bucky’s hands and flicked through it, running his finger over the pages. “ _I_ did this?”

“Of course you did,” Tony snorted. “What, did you think I came in here and set this up as some kind of elaborate prank? Could you see me colouring in twenty colouring books just to be a jackass?”

“You’re crazy, Stark,” Bucky laughed, “But even I know you’re not _that_ crazy,”

Rhodey and Pepper hovered nervously in the doorway. Tony gave them a small smile and waved to try and get them to come in, but they didn’t seem to notice; they were happy to wait and watch what was going on. They were focused on Steve, who was still skimming through the colouring book as thought it was some kind of alien artifact.

“I guess _someone_ wants to be a parent someday,” Bucky said, elbowing Tony in the side. He went over to a massive blue treasure chest and wiggled his fingers above it before opening it up. “What the fuck are these?” He stuffed his hand into the chest and pulled out a handful of colourful Legos. He swore and rubbed his finger, glaring at the Legos, having nearly dropped them. “You let him play with these? They’re fucking _sharp_ ,”

“They’re Legos,” Tony said, scooping the Legos out of Bucky’s hand. He snapped two together and tossed them back to Bucky so he could try them out for himself. “And if you think they’re sharp _now_ , wait until you find one on floor with your bare feet,”

“You’re nuts,” Bucky said, dropping down to his knees. He pulled out a new handful of Legos and started snapping them together, building himself a rectangular box out of multi-coloured pieces. “Hey,” he said, holding the box up. He looked rather proud of himself. “These things aren’t half bad, even if they are more dangerous than half the shit I had as a kid,”

“They’re not _dangerous_ ,” Tony said, flicking Bucky in the ear. “They’re building blocks, not razor blades,”

“Right. I’ll believe that when I see it,” Bucky chuckled, grasping Tony’s lower leg in his metal hand. “Flick my ear again, pal. I _dare_ you.” He smiled sweetly up at Tony.

Tony scowled down at Bucky, and tried in vain to shake his leg free from Bucky’s death grip. “Damn you and your metal arm,” he grunted, hopping on his one his free foot. “I don’t know why I make you nice things. You’re _mean_ ,”

Bucky scooped up a new handful of Legos with his free hand and built himself another rectangular box, sticking it onto the first. “You guys are the ones with the weird toys,”

“And _jacks_ were less weird?” Tony snorted. He lifted his leg up and pushed his bare toes under Bucky’s shirt, wiggling them against Bucky’s bare belly. “I refuse to believe that,”

Bucky yelped and gave Tony’s leg what appeared to be a gentle tug in revenge. It didn’t feel all that gentle to _Tony_ ; he tumbled face first into Bucky’s lap, and lay sprawled across Bucky’s knees with his ass in the air and his face an inch away from the carpet.

“I need an _adult_ ,” Tony squawked. He squirmed in Bucky’s lap, trying to break free. The bastard still had his lower leg in his vicelike grip; his struggles meant nothing. He twisted and flailed, burying away the slight terror creeping through his mind at the thought of being pinned so easily. He rolled over and stared balefully up at Pepper and Rhodey. “Help?”

Steve glanced up from his colouring book; his expression seemed to turn anguished for a split second before going impossibly blank.

What that was about?

Steve set the colouring book on the table, smoothing out the crumpled cover and pages with his hand. “I think I’d like to start sorting through stuff now,” he said, quietly. “Do we have any boxes, Jarvis?”

“We have several different kinds, all of which are in storage in the basement levels of the building, Captain,” Jarvis said. “Would you like me to have someone bring them up?”

“Yes please,” Steve said. “I kind of want my room back.” He turned to the stuffed animals and shook his head. “This was such a waste of money,”

Tony stopped squirming in Bucky’s lap. “What?”

Bucky frowned. “What are you talking about? This stuff is awesome!”

Steve sighed and turned away, grim-faced. “Look at all of this… _junk_ ,” he said, gesturing to the pile of stuffed animals and then to the boxes upon boxes of toys. “You spent more money in here than most people could hope to make in a year! And all of it was for a kid who wasn’t even going to be around for more than a few months,”

Bucky’s grip loosened; Tony eased himself out of Bucky’s lap and stood up, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ok.

_That_ stung a little.

Yes. He knew he had gone a _teensy_ bit overboard, but in his defense, none of the stuff he had bought could even be _remotely_ classified as junk. He had been told off for ‘buying way too much stuff’ by practically every Avengers aside from the Hulk, and he was well aware he had a problem with saying no to the kid’s requests, but he hadn’t thought it was _that_ bad. Kids _loved_ toys. What was he supposed to do? Leave the kid toy-less when he had the cash to spare?

“Alright – point taken,” Tony gritted out. “But it’s not like I ripped the toys out of some screaming kid’s hands, you know,”

“I get that, but as of now it’s all going to charity,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sure someone will enjoy it,”

“Captain?” Jarvis said, sounding hesitant. “Your boxes are waiting in the elevator. Did you need anything else?”

“No, I think we’re good. Thanks, Jarvis,” Steve said with a sigh.

“I think I’ll go get those boxes,” Rhodey grunted, vanishing from the doorway.

Pepper crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at Steve’s back, unimpressed with his decision.

Steve stalked over to his bed, oblivious to the change in mood in the room. The red, white and blue duvet he found on his bed was a recent addition. It was brightly coloured and clean despite having been used by a small child for over a month. Fabric cut to look like Captain America’s shield had been hand stitched into the middle of the cover at Tony’s request; it had cost five hundred bucks to have it made, and Tony had tipped the woman who had made it over twenty five hundred dollars all because Steve had started jumping up and down when he had seen it – that had been _kid Steve_ , of course. Adult Steve, didn’t seem to be nearly as excited to see it. Instead of grinning, Steve pulled the fluffy duvet towards him and stripped it from the bed in three rough tugs. The bed looked naked without its splash of colour.

“You’re getting rid of your poofy blanket?” Tony asked, his voice going whisper-soft. “But you _love_ your poofy blanket,”

Steve calmly folded the duvet into a square and set it down on the floor. “I’m a grown man, Tony. I don’t need a poofy blanket, or whatever the hell this is – and I don’t need you babying me. I get that you think all this stuff is _cute_ , but it’s not. I’m not a child anymore and I need you to understand that,”

“Who the hell said I don’t understand that?” Tony growled. He watched as Steve started systematically dismantling the tower of stuffed animals, sorrow tugging at his heart. He plucked the stuffed Iron Man from the pile and cradled it against his chest, trying not to panic at how quickly things had gone bad.

Rhodey chose that moment to walk into the room carrying a stack of boxes and a box of plastic bags. He grimaced at the toys scattered all over the floor and set the boxes and bags down, dusting off his hands. “I didn’t even know we had that many boxes,” he grumbled.

“You know me,” Tony muttered. “I’m always planning for emergencies,”

Bucky chuckled. “You need help, man,”

“I do not,” Tony snapped, squeezing the toy tightly.

Bucky’s expression softened. “I didn’t mean it like that,”

Tony scowled and turned away.

“Alright,” Rhodey drawled, nodding at Steve. “Well, I left the rest in the living room so if you need more, that’s where they are,”

“Thank you Colonel,” Steve said, not looking up from the pile of toys. “I’m sure I’ll get to them eventually. There’s a lot to go through here,”

“What’s going on?” Rhodey murmured, glancing from the boxes and bags to Tony.

“Fucked if I know,” Tony said, wrapping his arms a little tighter around the stuffed Iron Man. Had he really been that bad? He looked around the room again, watching as Steve started dumping the stuffed animals he had sorted through into a massive green plastic bag. It physically _hurt_ to watch; he hadn’t thought anything could hurt _this_ again, not after spending years seeing Howard’s sneers, but apparently he had been horribly, horribly wrong.

Steve scoffed at a stuffed dinosaur and threw it into the bag, sending it straight to the bottom of the bag. “You know what’s going on, Tony. You brought me down here to _intentionally_ show me all of this stuff.” Steve sounded tired. “It wasn’t necessary,”

“But,” Tony started, flinching as if he had been struck.

“No, Tony,” Steve said, tossing another toy into the bag. “You didn’t need to be here. You just wanted to see the look on my face,”

Tony opened and closed his mouth, shocked into silence. Yes – what Steve had said was true. He _had_ wanted to see the look on Steve’s face, but it hadn’t had anything to do with humiliating the guy; he hadn’t wanted _that_. He had wanted Steve to see just how much he had cared – how much effort he had taken to gather toys from around the world, how much time he had spent here, arranging things so Steve would be _happy_. It was more than anyone had ever done for _him_ when he had been that age; Howard sure as hell hadn’t cared enough to bother even bringing back _peanuts_ from his personal jet.

How could things have gone so _wrong_? Tony wasn’t sure how he had managed it, but somehow he had ended up _insulting_ Steve – the exact opposite of what he had intended to do.

He didn’t get it.

What had he done wrong?

Why did Steve hate _everything_ here?

He opened his mouth again, wanting to explain – _needing_ to understand – but couldn’t bring himself to dredge up the words; instead, he bent down and scooped up the duvet before Steve could throw it into another bag, claiming it for himself. He cradled it against his chest and staggered over to the pile of colouring books still sitting on the drawing table. He moved on impulse; he knew that he needed to move fast or he would be caught and stopped. Steve was just going to get rid of the colouring books, he reasoned, trying to swallow down the bile in the back of his throat. It would be a shame to see them go into a dumpster. He rooted through the different books until he found his favourites, the ones Steve had used the most, and gathered them up, saving them from the purge. Steve might not want them, but _he_ sure as hell did. He didn’t want to just forget the kid; he wasn’t going to give those memories up without a fight.

Pepper and Rhodey stood framed by the doorway, stunned; they watched, hands held at stiffly at their sides as Steve tore through the neatly stacked piles of toys. The room had been so neat and tidy before; now it looked like a tornado had ripped through.

Pepper didn’t stay in the doorway. She plucked a plastic bag from the pile and handed it to Tony, seeming to instinctively _know_ that he wanted to whisk things away. She flashed him a sad smile and slipped past Steve as he continued to sort stuffed animals, a woman on a mission. She plucked a stuffed Captain America shield and a purple stuffed whale from the pile Steve hadn’t gotten to yet, recognizing them as favourites from the days she had spent babysitting. Everything here was memorable; the plush whale was a toy Tony had bought for Steve at the aquarium’s gift shop, and the other stuffies had been collected over time from various trips around town.

It hadn’t been Tony buying all the toys, either.

Bruce and Clint had picked up most of the teddy bears after taking an impromptu trip to Toys-R-Us with Tony’s credit card, and Thor had done a fair bit of shopping too, although most of what he had bought had been eaten. Even Natasha had bought Steve a gift. Hers had been a miniature tea set; she and the kid had spent more than a few hours having tea parties together, sipping real tea and eating cupcakes in the living room. She had threatened to disembowel Tony and make him wear his own entrails as a hat if he told Steve about it, of course, but the threat hadn’t stopped Tony from getting Jarvis to take a thousand different pictures of teatime. She would be happy to see them later, he knew; she just didn’t know it yet. They were the only images he had ever managed to capture where Natasha was smiling for real.

Pepper sighed in frustration when she couldn’t find the last toy she was looking; she didn’t dwell on the loss and instead moved on. She stepped over Steve’s growing discard pile to get at the bookshelf, where she set about scooping up nearly every damn children’s book in sight. She carted them all off, filling up a box in the process and carried it out of the room with her head held high.

Tony gave the room one final despairing look and then followed Pepper out, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He was shaking when he got to the elevator. He clutched the plastic bag of toys tightly against his body for comfort. He didn’t understand what was going on.

Why was Steve doing this? He hadn’t meant to be cruel. Had he seemed uncaring? Was that the problem? Had Steve thought he was just joking around?

“Jarvis?” Pepper murmured. “Hold the elevator for a second, please.” She set her box down on the floor and put a hand on Tony’s shoulder, squeezing gently until he looked up again. “It’s alright,” she said. “We’ll make it right somehow.”

Rhodey dashed out of Steve’s room and skidded into the elevator. He had a box in his arms, and looked a bit like he had just escaped from a booby-trapped tomb with treasure. “Close the door,” he hissed, glancing into Steve’s living room. No one had followed him out, but Tony could make out the sound of shouting even through the closed door and he knew exactly who was doing it. Steve’s voice always had carried, he mused.

The elevator doors closed with a soft click. Rhodey collapsed against the wall.

“What the hell was that about?” Pepper asked.

“Uh,” Rhodey muttered, looking sheepish. “Well, I kind of did something bad,”

“Oh god,” Pepper groaned. “What did you make off with?”

“I grabbed the Captain America stash,” Rhodey said, shifting the box against his chest. “I figured Tony wouldn’t want his Cap stuff thrown out considering how much time he spent putting it all together. I don’t know – I couldn’t just let Steve chuck it in a _bag_. That stuff belongs in the vault or hell, in a museum. It wasn’t right.”

Tony leaned back against the wall, fighting off a wave of vertigo. Oh _god_. He had forgotten all about the Captain America toys he had lent the kid! Most of it was irreplaceable, scavenged from auctions and private sales over the past thirty years. As a kid, Steve had been so careful with everything, and it had been hard to say no to him. What else had he left behind? There was little they hadn’t shared.

“Did we miss anything?” Pepper asked, glancing at their stolen loot. “I think I got all the books he liked, and I know I got his favourite stuffed animals,”

“I didn’t see the bagel pillow,” Tony said, softly, swallowing down his anguish. “Jarvis?”

“Yes, sir?” Jarvis said as the doors opened into the penthouse.

“Let me know if it turns up – I want to keep it,” Tony said. He staggered out into the living room, the plastic bag hanging loosely in his hands. Pepper and Rhodey followed him out, their boxes tucked against their chests.

“I’m assuming we’re going to store all of this in the guest room for now,” Pepper said with a sigh. She turned, casting a glance at Tony when he didn’t say anything. “Hey, are you alright? Tony?”

Tony carried his plastic bag into his room and shut the door. He staggered his way over to his bed and collapsed onto it face first, sinking into the spongy mound of blankets. The bag flopped down beside him and folded over.

He rubbed his eyes. What had he done wrong?

He was tired of feeling like this all the time around Steve; it didn’t seem to matter what he did, he just always screwed everything up. With the kid, it had been easy. All it had taken to fix a fuckup was a bucket of ice cream and a hug or two, but with adult Steve it didn’t seem to matter _what_ he did anymore; he always seemed to do something to make things worse. He buried his hand into the bag and pulled out the duvet, curling it around his shoulders. Maybe it would be better if he just stopped talking to people. Maybe then he couldn’t fuck things up all the time.

His bedroom door opened with a creak. Tony buried his head under the blanket.

Pepper sat down on the edge of the bed. She let out a long, weary sigh as she ran her fingers through her tangled bangs. “I’m sorry he was a jerk,”

Tony shrugged. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gone down there with you guys,”

“Tony,” Pepper murmured. “Honey, you didn’t do _anything_ wrong. I don’t know what the hell crawled up his ass and died, but it had nothing to do with you. You just wanted to show him the world you built for him. It wasn’t like you pointed at him and laughed in his face. We’ll talk to him in the morning – we’ll figure it out together, I promise,”

“I’m the idiot that bought all that crap,” Tony mumbled. “I should have known better. You can’t buy love, right? That’s what you said. I should have just listened,”

Pepper looked guiltily down at her lap. “Tony, I said that to you because you bought me a _building_ for my birthday,” she said. “I didn’t say it because I thought you were a shitty person. I just thought it was too much,”

“Did I do too much this time too? The toys, I mean – did I get too many?” Tony grunted. “Do you think that’s why he hated it? I mean, I know he hates waste, but I really thought I did something right this time,”

“I think you scared him, honey,” Pepper said. “I think he freaked out because he found his room filled with stuff when it had only ever been empty before. He was essentially on ice all over again, and this _other person_ – this _kid_ , took over and made his home something different. That’s got to be scary,”

“Empty,” Tony mumbled. “I guess you’re right. His place was pretty damn empty before.”

“I’ve seen pictures of morgues that were homier than Steve Roger’s bedroom,” Pepper said, petting Tony’s shoulders through the duvet. “He lost a lot of time again. It has to be a shock – that doesn’t excuse the bad attitude, of course – but it was probably just a kneejerk reaction. I don’t think he meant to do it out of spite.”

“I guess,” Tony murmured. Was that it? Was it the _time_ that had passed making Steve angry? Had _that_ been the problem all along? He tried to think of it from Steve’s perspective, and cringed inwardly. What would it be like walking into a room like that? It had been Steve’s room, and yeah, it was still Steve’s room, but it wasn’t empty anymore. It was filled with stuffed animals, and games and goddamned wallpaper that he hadn’t picked out or even seen before. It couldn’t be the same room until all of that other stuff was stripped away. It would all seem so strange – hell, he could see why it would be frightening. God, he should have locked Steve’s room up and carted all of that crap out before he let Steve walk in there. It would have been kinder that way. Maybe things would have been easier to handle if Steve hadn’t had to see it all lying right there in front of him.

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice turned soft.

“Yeah?” Tony murmured. He peeled the blanket off of his head and rolled onto his side so he could look at her.

Pepper smiled and carded her fingers through his hair. “Give him some space, alright? I think he needs time to puzzle it all out. He’s got Bucky with him, and as much as I hate to admit it, I trust the guy. Bucky’s not going to let something happen to him. Steve will be fine. He’ll figure it out, and one day, he’ll get over it, but until then you’re going to have to be patient and leave him be,”

“I don’t know,” Tony said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This was so much easier when I didn’t like him, you know?”

“I know,” Pepper chuckled. “Try and get some rest, alright? Rhodey and I will be right outside if you need us.”

“Ok,” he sighed. “Pep?”

“Yes?” Pepper said, standing up.

“Do you think I should keep any of it?” he asked, nodding towards the bag of stuffed toys.

“I think you should _definitely_ keep it,” Pepper said. She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, smoothing down his hair. “Now go to sleep. I’ve got knitting to do and you need your sleep,”

“Alright. G’night, Pep,” Tony said.

Pepper pulled the toys out of the plastic bag and looked them over. She beamed at the stuffed Iron Man. “Why am I not surprised this is the one you walked out with?” She set the stuffed Iron Man on the pillow beside Tony’s head, giving it a gentle pat on the helmet. “He’s a cute little guy. I hope he brings you good dreams,” she said. She stroked Tony’s hair one last time before leaving, that soft, sweet, smile still on her lips. A long time ago that smile would have made him melt into a puddle; today, it just reminded him that good things _always_ left him behind.

 

 

Tony tried to sleep – he really did – but after three hours of tossing and turning, he knew enough was enough; sleep wasn’t coming – at least not for him. He wrapped Steve’s duvet around his shoulders and snuck out of his room. He could hear Pepper snoring like a chainsaw even two rooms away, and he knew that meant Rhodey was likely out like a light too; the pair of them were good at falling asleep at the same time. For some reason, they had always been able to ignore each other’s snores. He knew that no one was going to tell him off for sneaking out, but still, he scuttled through the darkened living room and into the elevator before he could be seen.

The workshop was devoid of sound; he hadn’t expected it to be loud considering no one had permission to be down here aside from him, but some sound would have been nice. He sighed. He had been hanging around the kid for too long; it was hard to imagine being down here alone for hours on end now. Maybe coming down here to work hadn’t been the best idea after all. He keyed in his passcode and stepped inside his workshop, heading towards the kitchen where Dummy was already mixing some kind of nasty brown concoction that may or may not have been made with metal shavings swept up from the floor. He took the smoothie when it was done, blended to ghastly perfection, and stuck it in the fridge, patting Dummy kindly on the head. “Thanks, boy, but I’m not hungry right now. I’ll save it for later.” The cot in the corner of the workshop was calling out to him; it looked nice and cozy, and for once there wasn’t even a _trace_ of motor oil on the sheets. Perhaps sleep wasn’t as far away as he had thought.

Tony clambered onto the cot and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Jarvis dimmed the lights.

“Thanks,” Tony mumbled, pulling Steve’s duvet higher up his chest until it blocked out the light of the arc reactor.

“You are very welcome, sir,” Jarvis said. “May I suggest getting some sleep? Ms. Potts has requested that you get at least five hours tonight, if that is possible,”

“Alright, alright,” Tony grumbled. He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

 

Two hours later he was forced to admit that sleep really, truly, wasn’t coming no matter how many robotic sheep he counted. He sat up sluggishly, pressing his palms to his face. He had promised Pepper that he wasn’t going to spend all night working, but he could probably get away with doing something light like design. He wouldn’t even have to leave bed to do it.

He sat cross-legged on the cot and wrapped the duvet around his middle to keep warm. “Jarvis? Pull up Bucky’s floor plans,” he grumbled. The hologram in front of him was bare still. He hadn’t gotten around to doing anything important with this one yet, but he had nothing but time on his hands now, so it wouldn’t stay empty for long. He skimmed through a list of contractors, juggling the walls on the hologram until he had them where he wanted them. He yawned and pulled up the list of paint colours and furniture.

 

 

Tony snorted so loud he woke himself up. He slumped back against the cot with a groan, glad that Jarvis had taken over before he could accidentally fuck up the floor plans by inadvertently crashing head first through them. He was sore all over, but it had become a familiar sort of ache and was almost pleasant. He lifted up his shirt to inspect his bruises and found them just as dark as they had been the night before. A few more days and they would be a lovely shade of greenish yellow. At least he had something to look forward to.

“Sir? Mr. Barnes is requesting permission to enter the workshop,” Jarvis said.

“Let him in,” Tony grunted, letting his shirt drop back down over his chest. At least this saved him time; now he didn’t have to go hunt Bucky down in order to show him the design for his floor.

Bucky sauntered into the workshop, his hair still wet from the shower. He paused to pat Dummy on the head. “Tony?” he called out.

“Over here,” Tony said, yawning into his forearm.

“Were you sleeping down here?” Bucky asked.

“Of course,” Tony grunted.

Bucky sat down in a rolling chair and wheeled it over to the cot. He lifted his slippered feet up onto the mattress. “So,” he said. “Last night sucked,”

“ _Sucked_ is putting it mildly,” Tony said, burrowing under the duvet.

“Steve’s not feeling too happy right now, if that’s any consolation,” Bucky said. “He stayed up all night sorting through stuff. I don’t think he meant to get rid of everything, but now he’s kind of lost,”

“Lost?”

“He flipped out,” Bucky said, rubbing a hand over his metal shoulder. “He thought you bought him an entire store just because you could. He didn’t realize that so much of the stuff there meant something to you guys,”

“What clued him in?” Tony snorted.

“Natasha came down and reclaimed her tea set. She tweaked his nose and told him that if he made you cry, she was going to make him suffer,” Bucky chuckled, darkly.

“Natasha said that?”

“Yep. She _really_ wasn’t impressed when she found out about what happened last night. Mind you,” Bucky sighed, “She didn’t exactly come out and threaten to break his legs or anything. It was more of a ‘looking at him with murder in her eyes’ thing. I think I’m the only one who recognized it.”

“That’s Nat for you,” Tony chuckled.

“Yeah. She’s always did have a way with words,” Bucky said, rolling his shoulders.

“So why are you here? Checking up on me?” Tony asked. He tried to squash down on the hope that Bucky had been sent by Steve.

“I got kicked out,” Bucky smiled sheepishly. “I kind of gave him shit and he told me to fuck off,”

Tony sat up straighter, intrigued. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him he should pull his head out of his ass and get over himself. It wasn’t like you were shoving money in his face or anything. You were just trying to be nice to him, and he acted like a dick,”

“Ouch,”

“Oh _please_ ,” Bucky snorted. “He deserved it. He was a real shitbag and he knew it too,”

“Well, yeah, but you didn’t have to say it to his _face_ ,” Tony said, quirking a smile. “I thought you were supposed to be his _bestest_ friend,”

“I am,” Bucky grunted, kicking at Tony’s leg. He missed and scowled. “That means I have the _right_ to give him the cold hard truth when he needs to hear it, and he _needed_ to hear it,”

“So he’s up there, alone, sulking?” Tony asked, trying to sound casual. He didn’t want Steve to suffer, even if he _had_ been a jerk. He wasn’t that cruel.

“No, sadly he is not sulking alone,” Bucky grumbled, his expression turning sour. “He called Sharon in and they’re busy _talking_ ,”

Tony winced. Great. Sharon Carter was around _again_ ; he had the worst goddamned luck in the world. How had she gotten into the building? It was starting to look like it was time to change the locks. He knew it was petty, but he hadn’t exactly given permission for her to be in the building, and if she and her SHIELD pals were getting into _his_ house without permission, he was going to have to do something about that – for _safety’s_ sake.

No. Scratch that. If Pepper found out she would skin him alive and he _liked_ his skin where it was.

He tucked the duvet over his lap again and gestured for Jarvis to pull up the blueprints for Bucky’s floor. It was better not to dwell on Sharon. It wasn’t fair to be angry with her; she hadn’t done anything aside from the whole breaking and entering thing. It wasn’t her fault Steve had called her in.

Bucky’s eyes lit up when he caught sight the hologram. “Whoa,” he said, poking at it with his flesh and blood fingers. The hologram spun in a neat circle before returning to its original position. Jarvis was, thankfully, very used to guests playing with schematics, and knew better than to let anyone make changes. “What the fuck is _that_?” Bucky asked in awe.

“That,” Tony said, batting Bucky’s hand away, “is going to be your floor – eventually.”

“Really,” Bucky whistled. “Is it going to be that blue everywhere?”

Tony put his head in his hand. “Barnes,”

Bucky cackled, leaning back in his chair. “You’re so precious Tony, you know that, right?”

“Why do I put up with you?” Tony sighed. “Jackass,”

“I love you too,” Bucky said with a grin. He knocked Tony in the knee with his slippered foot again. “So are you coming upstairs for breakfast or what?”

Tony grabbed the slipper and yanked it off, slapping it across Bucky’s foot. “This is mine now,”

“I didn’t know you liked me that much,” Bucky laughed. “You’re collecting my clothes now? That’s a little creepy,”

Tony scowled at him.

“So are you coming up for breakfast or what?” Bucky asked.

“I guess,” Tony muttered. He wondered if Steve would be there. It seemed likely that Steve would be having breakfast on his floor with Sharon. Tony twisted the slipper in his hands, and glared at it.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir,” Jarvis said, saving and shutting down the hologram before Tony could hurl the slipper through them, “But Captain Rogers is – _oh_. Pardon me, sir. It appears the Captain has changed his mind,”

Tony glanced up from the slipper just in time to see Steve disappearing into the elevator.

“Was that Steve?” Bucky asked, turning in his chair to squint at the workshop doors.

“Yeah,” Tony said, struggling upright. “I guess it was. Why the hell did he just leave like that? Jarvis?”

“I am afraid the Captain did not give me an answer as to why he departed so abruptly, sir,” Jarvis said with a sigh. Tony hadn’t actually made it possible for the AI to get frustrated, but he was fairly certain that’s what had just happened.

“He didn’t say _anything_?” Bucky asked. He rolled his shoulders again and grimace. “Fantastic. The _one_ time he takes my advice, and he chickens out,”

“And what advice would that be, exactly?” Tony asked. He folded the duvet into a perfect square and set it down on the cot, smoothing the wrinkles out with the flat of his hand.

“It’s not important now. Never mind,” Bucky grumbled, pushing himself across the room on the rolling chair. He caught himself on Tony’s worktable and stood up, dusting his hands off on his pajama pants. “So, my floor looked pretty good. When’s that happening?”

“I’ll get the contractors in as soon as possible,” Tony said, stalking towards the elevator. “It should be ready in a few days, give or take a bonus or two,”

“And the arm?” Bucky asked.

“The arm is going to take longer,” Tony grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Shut up about the damn arm,”

“You’re a cruel man,” Bucky grunted, following Tony into the elevator.

“Tell it to someone who cares,” Tony muttered.

 

 

Tony was irritated to find both Steve and Sharon seated at the table when he stepped out into his penthouse. He peered into the kitchen, unsure as to where he was expected to be; Pepper and Rhodey had already finished making breakfast, so there wasn’t much he could do aside from sit down. He hovered in the doorway until Bucky found himself a seat at the table and then took a seat of his own – one that was as far away from Steve and Sharon as was humanly possible.

Bucky scowled at him and hucked a chunk of banana at his head.

Tony scowled back and ate the projectile, chewing as obnoxiously as possible. His bad mood didn’t last long. He smiled sweetly at Pepper when she set a mug of coffee down in front of him. “Thank you,”

Pepper yawned and patted him on the head. “It’s nice to see you awake before noon,” she said, returning to the counter. She wrestled a stack of pancakes onto a serving platter and carried it over, setting the top two on Tony’s plate. “You’d better eat everything this time,”

“Yes, _mom_ ,” Tony grumbled good-naturedly. He winced when she smacked him in the back of the head. “Ow!”

“Stop sassing your mother,” Rhodey growled. He set a platter with bacon and sausage down on the table and ducked under Pepper’s arm when she went to smack him in the back of the head too.

Tony chuckled and glanced at Steve over the rim of his coffee cup. It didn’t look like Steve was all that torn up about anything, so his flight earlier had probably been nothing. Steve was sitting beside Sharon, smiling up at her as if the sun shone out of her eyes. It would have been hard to find a more appealing expression, and even though it wasn’t directed at him, Tony almost felt a little bit better seeing it. That all went to hell when Steve started leaning against Sharon’s arm.

Tony gazed into his coffee, trying to quell the despair brewing in his gut.

“I don’t see you _eating_ ,” Pepper growled into Tony’s ear. She scooped eggs onto his plate before setting the new platter down on the table.

Bucky smirked and helped himself to some pancakes.

“So Steve,” Pepper said, pointedly ignoring Bucky as he picked through the stack to find the fluffiest pancakes. “How did the cleaning go?”

Steve turned away from Sharon, looking chagrinned. “Uh, it went well,” he murmured, glancing down at his empty plate. “Most of it’s in boxes and ready to go. We’re just waiting on Good Will to come take it all away,”

Tony hid his face behind his mug.

Well, at least Steve wasn’t outright hiding what he was doing with the stuff. He dug into his food, trying to focus on the savory bacon instead of the painful twist in his gut.

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate the donation,” Pepper said, her voice turning cold. She sat down beside Tony and started scooping cubed fruit salad onto Tony’s plate. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do today, Tony?” she asked.

Tony shrugged and bit into a chunk of watermelon. There was always work to do _somewhere_ ; he knew he wouldn’t have a problem finding something to fiddle with. R&D usually had something for him to look over these days, so if he ran out of rooms to redecorate, he could always start there.

Rhodey dropped into the seat on Tony’s left and reached around him for the bottle of organic blueberry syrup. He poured it liberally over his pancakes and then turned the bottle onto Tony’s plate, drawing a happy face on each pancake. “Tony’s going to call the Beach House’s owner today, _right_?” he said, putting the syrup bottle back.

Tony bit into a chunk of peach and shrugged again. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about the beach house just yet. Throwing money at the place seemed like a good way to win the owner over, but there was his promise to the kid to think about, and he wasn’t so sure he could just hand the lady money without looking the damage over for himself. He needed to be sure she got enough to take care of more than just the initial damages. He bit into another piece of peach, pondering the future.

Pepper reached around Tony and whisked his plate away; she started cutting up his pancakes for him, glancing over at Rhodey as she worked at turning the pancake into perfect squares. She smiled when Tony ate another piece of fruit and slid his plate back in front of him. “There. Eat,” she commanded.

Tony sighed and turned his attention to the pancake. He had been around Pepper long enough to know that she wasn’t going to let him leave the table until every last bite was gone. The force-feeding didn’t really bother him this time; the pancakes were a lot better than anything that had been in the Skull’s compound, and at least here, he didn’t have to worry about the time. No one was going to take his food away if he didn’t eat fast enough; the worst he could expect was a dirty look.

Steve slid a pancake off the pile and onto his plate. He grinned at Sharon and reached for her plate, ready to load hers up too.

“You don’t need to feed me, Steve,” Sharon murmured. She pulled her plate out of reach and stabbed at a pancake, sliding it onto her plate. “I’m a big girl. I can feed myself,”

Tony cocked an eyebrow but didn’t comment on the way Steve’s grin gradually died. He cleared the last of the pancake off of his plate and turned to his fruit again, soldiering on even when Rhodey slid more bacon on his plate.

Bucky grabbed another pancake, drowning it in syrup until it was so blue, it looked a bit like it had been dredged out of the ocean. He smirked at Steve, gesturing with his fork. “So are you going to take me up on my offer, or what?”

“No,” Steve said, pursing his lips. “I was thinking of getting away for a few days – heading over to Sharon’s or something.” He turned to Sharon with a sheepish look on his face. “I mean, if that’s alright with you,”

Sharon nodded, slicing through her pancakes with an easy flick of her wrist. “It’s fine. I’ve got some time saved up. We can go bum around town or something. I know you haven’t been on vacation in a while,”

“That’s true,” Steve said, drumming his fingers on the table. “I could use a break,”

Tony picked up his plate and rose mechanically; he carried it over to the sink and left it there, going back to the table to pick up his lukewarm coffee. He nodded once to Pepper and Rhodey before turning and heading back to the elevator.

What did he care if Steve thought he needed a vacation? There was nothing to miss here, after all. He got into the elevator, and let the doors close behind him.

On second thought – a vacation sounded like a good idea. He could easily make it a working vacation too. The suit needed some fine-tuning and a trip would make that task far easier. He hurried into his workshop and dropped the mug of coffee off on Dummy’s head. “Take this to the kitchen,” he said.

Dummy whirred happily and wheeled the cup over to the counter; miraculously, it survived the trip and ended up in the sink without shattering.

“Jarvis? Bring up the newest iteration of the suit,” Tony said.

“One moment please, sir,” Jarvis said.

In seconds, the suit assembled in front of Tony, every part gleaming. Tony eagerly stepped into it, letting it close around him; the fit was a bit looser than he remembered, but it wasn’t so bad that he would need to make adjustments. He would grow back into it eventually. The aches and pains in his body made their presence known again when he tried to move; his muscles screamed out their displeasure with each step he took. Still, he ignored the pain and ran through his final pre-flight checklist, itching to leave. He had his wallet and a spare shirt tucked away in a side pocket. There was nothing else he needed. He could always buy himself a shirt or two; he knew the town well enough now to know where to get a decent pair of pants and shoes, too.

“Tony?” Rhodey knocked on the workshop door. “Oh shit. Come on man, don’t do this,”

“You told me to head out and deal with the mess at the Beach House,” Tony said, his voice modulated by the armor. “I’m going to deal with it. You got a problem with that?”

“ _Tony_ ,” Rhodey murmured, shaking his head. “Don’t go there _alone_ ,”

“I need to make sure Mabel’s alright,” Tony said, opening up the workshop doors. He headed for the elevator, bypassing his usual launch chute in favor of walking.

Rhodey followed him into the elevator. “At least let me suit up. I’ll go with you,”

“It’s fine. I need to be able to deal with this alone,” Tony said. “It’s better if I bite the bullet now and get it over with. The waiting’s the part that’s going to drive me up the wall,”

“You were almost _drowned_ there, Tony,” Rhodey snapped. “I know you’re mad at Steve, but come on. This isn’t the way to heal,”

“And what is?” Tony scoffed, sending the elevators up. He debated on stopping at another floor so he could simply blow out the window and leave without being seen, but couldn’t make himself care enough to do it. This was his house, after all. Why should he hide? He got out at the penthouse and stalked through the living room with Rhodey dogging his steps, heading for the Launchpad on the deck.

Steve looked up, startled; he was elbow deep in dishwater and had a gorgeous bit of soap foam stuck in his bangs. “Tony? What are you doing?”

Tony hesitated but kept walking. It wasn’t like Steve needed to know where he was going. He wasn’t on active duty anyway – Captain or no Captain, this was still his life – his decision. If Steve could go on vacation, so could he.

Jarvis opened the sliding glass doors so he didn’t walk straight through them.

Tony ran the last few feet, throwing himself off the ledge with a grunt. He felt the drop in the pit of his stomach and closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation. Flying always had been better than everything in his life; hell, even sex wasn’t as good. The repulsors flared to life, pulling him back up from his freefall. He shot across the skyline, letting Jarvis plot out a course. He could just make out Steve standing on the launch pad in the distance. He didn’t look back.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beach houses looked fine from the outside, but they were a disaster inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to upload this! My internet was screwing around yesterday night, so I ended up wasting a lot of time on the phone trying to get them to help me fix it. @_@ 
> 
> Warnings for angst! Lots and lots of angst.

Tony arrived at the Beach House as the sun was setting. His anger had slowly faded during the trip, but it was still there in the back of his mind, waiting to spring free He landed with a stumble as the repulsors shut off and moaned, wishing he could rub his hands over his face. The armor was ill-suited for jaunts in the sand, but really, it could have been worse. He only sank three inches and at least while he was in the suit no one could tell he was hyperventilating and having one of the worst panic attacks of his life. He locked the suit’s joints and leaned his face against the interior of the helmet, breathing in through his nose.

It was fine.

He could do this – it was the beach, not a battlefield. Yes, there was water here, but he had the suit and no one was going to hurt him with the suit on. He turned off the external cameras and bathed himself in darkness, letting the HUD become his one and only sight.

It was fine. There was water _outside_ the suit, but _he_ wasn’t outside – he was here and he was safe and he was fine.

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony shuddered, corralled his strength and turned the cameras back on. The world blinked into life in front of him; everything was far too loud and colourful. The sudden crash of waves behind him nearly sent him into another panic attack. He turned towards the beach houses and the road, focusing on the woman in front of him instead of on the beach. “Mrs. Jia?” The suit hid the worst of his trembling. He was glad that he had kept the faceplate down. He didn’t think anyone was going to appreciate seeing his sweaty face; he probably looked like a goddamned _grub_ right about now. He certainly felt like one.

Emily Jia tapped her foot in the sand, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was streaked with grey and pulled back in a loose bun. She was wearing flip-flops, a striped green-and-pink shirt and beige Bermuda shorts; she looked at ease here on the beach, but the scowl on her face made it seem like she was going to make sure no one else was. “You know,” she said, the barest hint of an accent in her voice, “When Ms. Potts said that Stark International would be paying for the damage to my property, I assumed that she meant I was to send her the bill. I didn’t think I would be getting a _personal_ visit. Do you not trust me?”

Tony swore inwardly and flipped up the faceplate, knowing it would make a better impression than the Iron Man’s impassive face. “No, Mrs. Jia. That’s not what this means. I wanted to stop by and make sure you had everything you needed – and that included checking to make sure the cat was alright,”

Mrs. Jia frowned. “Cat? What cat?”

“Mabel,” Tony sighed. God, the cat better have been real, because if she wasn’t, he was going to have to fly himself to the nearest asylum and have himself committed.

Mrs. Jia’s frown vanished. “Oh! You found Mabel?” She brightened considerably, her hands dropping from her hips to her sides. “I’ve been looking for her for three months!”

“Three months?” Tony gaped at Mrs. Jia. “You’re _kidding_ ,”

“I wish I was,” Mrs. Jia muttered, shaking her head. “That cat _loves_ to wander. I don’t usually see her for weeks at a time.”

“I’m not surprised,” Tony chuckled. “I guess she knows all the good places to get a free meal,”

“Yes. She’s very good at _mooching_ ,” Mrs. Jia sighed. “I don’t know why I worry so much about her. Technically, she’s not really even _my_ cat.”

“She’s not?”

“One of the guests left her behind – the poor little thing was pregnant, and they didn’t want to care for her because vet bills were too ‘ _expensive’_ ,” Mrs. Jia snorted. “Personally I think that was a crock of shit. They were driving a goddamned _Mercedes_ – they could have paid for the vaccinations for the kittens and even the spaying for Mabel, but they were too bloody cheap to do it. They were happier buying themselves new rims for their car.” Mrs. Jia scowled. “People like that are _scum_.”

“Agreed,” Tony said. “She’s done fairly well. You must have taken very good care of her,”

Mrs. Jia snorted. “She takes care of herself mostly. I stuck a collar on her a few months after she ended up mine and I feed her when she bothers to show up, but that’s pretty much it. She’s never been the nicest cat,” Mrs. Jia said. “She doesn’t really like other cats – or people.”

Tony chuckled. “I noticed,”

Mrs. Jia eyed the suit. “That must have been a long flight. Where were you before you decided to come here?”

“New York,” Tony admitted. “Would you mind if I stayed the night? I’ll pay, of course,”

“I suppose I can let you stay,” Mrs. Jia said. She looked Tony up and down, pursing her lips. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not really,” Tony said. “I don’t usually get an inflight meal – it’s kind of hard to eat and fly. I had breakfast before I left, though. Does that count?”

“Breakfast was _hours_ ago,” Mrs. Jia grumbled, giving him a look that told him she was unimpressed with his decision-making skills. “I _suppose_ you can come back to my place for dinner. Let’s get a move on then, hm? I was just sitting down to eat and by now it’s gone cold,”

“How did you know I was going to be out here?” Tony asked, following her down the road.

“Your CEO – Ms. Potts – phoned ahead and warned me that you were going to drop by unannounced. Naturally, I thought she was out of her damned mind. Who just decides on a whim to visit a city miles away?” Mrs. Jia said. She glanced over her shoulder at Tony, quirking a smile. “Obviously, I should have known better. You’re Tony Stark after all. Who needs jet planes when you can fly off in your magical suit of armor?”

“It’s not actually magical,” Tony said with a weary sigh.

“Yes, yes,” Mrs. Jia said, clucking her tongue. “I get that. You businessmen are far too _literal_ ,”

“You’re a businessman too you know. _Businesswoman_ ,” Tony said, correcting himself. “You know how it is. You have to mean what you say – well, for the most part at least – otherwise you get sued and _no one_ likes being sued. Not even me,”

“True,” Mrs. Jia said. She led them down the bumpy asphalt to a house at the end of the street.

There was grass in the front yard, but it was straw-like and growing amidst sandy soil. The house they approached, unlike the others in the resort, was brightly lit and well away from the beach and water. It was three stories high, and while quaint, had been built in a much different era than the other beach houses. It almost looked _new_. The sharp angles on the roof made it seem like it had been dropped here from another planet. The white framing around the windows stood out against the navy blue siding and it sort of looked as if they were being watched by large, unblinking eyes.

Tony marveled at the rigid wooden shingling, amazed that everything was in such good condition. Salt air was very, _very_ good at degrading whatever it touched, and by all accounts, the wood should have started rotting by now.

Mrs. Jia scowled at Tony as she made her way up the broad white steps to the front door. “You’re staring as though you expect gargoyles to drop down from the roof,”

“Do you _have_ gargoyles?” Tony asked, heading towards the stairs.

“No,” Mrs. Jia said, pulling her keys out of her pocket. “I do not have gargoyles. I thought about it, but then I remembered that birds tend to like shitting on them, and we have a lot of birds here,”

“Good point,” Tony said. He hesitated, wondering whether he should wear the armor inside or not. The stairs looked structurally sound, but he didn’t want to risk dropping through the floor if it was simply paint keeping the place so fresh looking. He had been hoping to make the armor lighter one day, but sadly, he had been forced to put that particular upgrade on the backburner; he hadn’t had the time to devote to make it lighter _and_ more durable while the kid was around.

Oh well. It wasn’t like he could stay suited up forever. Sighing, Tony shucked the armor and locked it up behind him, leaving it standing beside the stairs. Jarvis would watch out for it, and if anything happened he would give Tony a shout through his cellphone. Besides, it would be good to have a decent pair of eyes surveying the property. Even though the Skull and Hydra were long gone, it still felt as though someone was watching him; he didn’t like that feeling. He started up the steps, aware that Mrs. Jia was trying to figure out why he was dressed in a greasy tank top and sweat pants considering he was supposed to be here to do an inspection of the damage to her buildings, and barely had time to react before he was hit in the shins by something _heavy_.

He staggered and went down hard; he tumbled, hitting his head on each step.

Something hissed and wiggled out from under his legs.

Tony gazed up at the night sky, watching as the clouds spun unpleasantly. His head throbbed in protest when he sat up, but it appeared that his brain had indeed remained both intact and inside his skull. His ribs, on the other hand, ached so fiercely he was forced poke at them to make sure they broken. He was lucky; the fall had likely only given him more bruises for his collection. He let out a loud sigh and glared down at the cat sitting beside his hip. “What were you _thinking_?” he said, shaking his head. “You could have killed me, you stupid cat,”

Mabel clambered into Tony’s lap and butted her furry face against his chin. She purred loudly when he stroked her ears, rubbing her spittle covered chin all down the side of his throat. He grimaced and hoisted her up, letting her settle in his arms before going onto his knees. He stood up, muttering curses under his breath and started up the stairs again.

Mrs. Jia looked like she had just seen him unhinge his jaw and swallow a watermelon whole. She gaped at him, and stood frozen in the doorway with one hand raised to brace herself against the door frame. “How did you do that?”

“How did I do what?” Tony asked pausing beside her. He grimaced when Mabel started gnawing on his t-shirt, leaving wet patches in her wake.

“You picked her up,” Mrs. Jia said, her eyes growing wider. “ _No one_ picks her up,”

“Really?” Tony chuckled. “She’s _always_ let me pick her up. I blame Steve,”

“Steve?” Mrs. Jia frowned. “Who’s Steve?”

“He’s the kid we had with us – _was_ the kid,” Tony said, rubbing his thumb over Mabel’s sticky chin. He sighed, focusing on Mabel instead of on his memories of the kid. The cat didn’t look malnourished, but she wasn’t exactly as chunky as she had when they had been taking care of her; he hoped that she had gotten something to eat recently. When he looked up from studying Mabel’s belly, he found that Mrs. Jia was still looking at him, only now she was smiling sadly.

“What?” Tony asked, tensing. He sure as hell didn’t need pity.

“It’s nothing,” Mrs. Jia said, her voice going soft. She turned and headed down the hallway, disappearing around the corner. “I’ve got spaghetti and garlic toast. You’re lucky I always make enough for tomorrow or you’d be shit out of luck,”

Tony closed the door carefully behind him. He locked it and slid the chain in place, not wanting to risk inviting trouble even though he knew it was unlikely he would find any here. He glanced around, searching for a place to put his work boots where they wouldn’t make a mess; strictly speaking, he hadn’t exactly had anything smeared all over him today, but he had learned long ago to be mindful of the carpet. Howard had taught him that lesson the hard way. He found a spot against the wall that was out of the way and moved Mabel up onto his shoulders so he could toe off his boots. She nibbled on the ridge of his ear and rubbed her teeth against his cheek. She was either extremely happy to see him, or secretly planning to eat him. He wasn’t sure which.

“Mr. Stark? Did you want something to drink?” Mrs. Jia called out from the kitchen.

Yes, Tony wanted to say, give me _anything_ – paint thinner, whiskey, vodka, whatever you have that’s strongest. “I’ll take a root beer if you’ve got any – or water,” he said.

“You’ve in luck,” Mrs. Jia said. “I’ve got root beer,”

“Nice,” Tony said. He inspected the portraits on the walls as he made his way towards the kitchen; there were quite a few here, and all of them had smiling faces in them – they were real smiles, too, if he had to guess. He wondered what that was like. Having a family that really smiled seemed like such a novel concept. He was pretty sure there had only been one time in his life where he had ever seen both of his parents smiling at the same time; that had been on the morning they had sent him off to boarding school, and they had both still been tipsy from the party they had thrown the night before.

The walls here were covered in wallpaper that belonged in a garbage dump; there were tiny purple hearts along the ceiling and ferns along the floorboards, with palm trees and brownish blobs that looked like they were supposed to be islands in between. Whoever had done the decorating here had a very _distinct_ style and Tony would have bet a million dollars that they had been the person who had decorated each and every beach house Mrs. Jia owned.

The kitchen, on the other hand, was delightfully chic, much more clean and modern than he had been expecting. Mrs. Jia looked up from her gas stove and nodded towards the large butcher block where two chairs and two bottles of chilled root beer sat waiting. “I’ll bring it all over when it’s warm,” she said, humming to herself as she worked.

Tony took a seat at the butcher block. He plucked Mabel from his shoulder and waited patiently while she did circles in his lap; she settled down when she was finally satisfied, resting her chin on the butcher block in contentment, and closed her eyes. Her purr was loud enough to be heard clean across the room. It sounded a little like a motor was starting up.

Mrs. Jia looked up, startled. “She really likes you,”

Tony shrugged, running his fingers along Mabel’s back. He found a burr in her fur and gently worked it free, setting it on the butcher block after he noticed that Mrs. Jia glaring at him; he tried not to look nervous. It was like she had read his mind and seen that he had been tempted to flick the burr across the room. “Mabel likes all of us,” he said with a cough, hoping to discourage her wrath. “She kept us company all the time. I don’t think I spent much time here without her,”

“I suppose that’s bound to happen when you’re adopted by a cat,” Mrs. Jia agreed. She carried two plates of spaghetti over to the butcher block and set them down, returning a moment later with a hunk of garlic toast on another platter; it wasn’t anything like the spaghetti Tony was used to. The sauce was brown and had bits of bamboo shoots and ground pork mixed into it. She handed Tony a fork and turned her attention to her bottle of root beer, opening it up with the backside of her butter knife.

Mabel watched with narrowed eyes as Tony cut up his noodles. He knew what she was waiting for; she had been on his lap during dinner frequently enough for him to be able to tell when she was planning something. With a dramatic sigh, he found a sizeable chunk of meat with some noodles in it and chopped it up into bite sized pieces. He slid the pile into his palm, and waited while Mabel ate it.

Mrs. Jia cocked an eyebrow. “Is that how you won her over? _Bribery_?”

“To be fair,” Tony grumbled, letting the cat lick his fingers clean of sauce, “it didn’t _start_ as bribery. She stuck her face in my plate once when I wasn’t looking and that was pretty much it. She seems to think it’s a standing invitation,”

“I see,” Mrs. Jia said. “Maybe that’s why I never got anywhere with her.”

“Who knows,” Tony said, through a mouthful of noodles. “Thanks for the food, by the way,”

“You’re welcome,” Mrs. Jia said, tearing a piece of garlic toast in half. She glanced down at it and then handed it over to Tony. “She likes butter,” she said with a sigh.

Tony smiled and held the bread out under Mabel’s nose. Unsurprisingly, the cat launched forwards, her pink tongue licking at the bread.

“Your friends aren’t going to show up, are they?” Mrs. Jia asked after a moment, swirling her noodles on her plate.

Tony shook his head. “I don’t think so. And if they’re plan on it, they’re not going to be here for at least another day. They don’t have the suit to cart them around and they need to get permission from the Pirate King to rent a bird from SHIELD.”

“The Pirate King?”

“He’s the head of SHIELD. You’ll know him if you ever see him,” Tony said with a shrug.

“Why are you really here, Mr. Stark?” Mrs. Jia asked, pursing her lips.

Tony stared down at his plate, twirling his noodles with his fork. He wasn’t _really_ sure how to answer her question. He didn’t know why he was here, truth be told. He had wanted to take a vacation from Steve and the Tower, and yes he had also wanted to make sure the place was given enough cash to cover every last bit of damage, but those weren’t the only reasons he had wanted to be here.

He had promised the kid he would come back here and buy the place – keep it safe from harm and he planned on keeping his promises.

But the kid was gone now.

Was there really a reason to buy the place? Should he bother staying? It wasn’t like the kid would find out about it and tell him off; the kid was gone. There was nothing stopping him from getting back into the suit and having Jarvis pilot it back to the tower.

Mabel sunk her teeth into Tony’s thumb and growled dangerously. Well, alright. There was _one_ thing stopping him.

Tony sighed and turned the lump of garlic toast around so she could lick the rest of the butter off of it. She started purring again, happy with his decision to cater to her every whim. She snorted loudly as she gnawed on the edge of the bread.

“I know you like the cat, but you can’t be here just for her sake,” Mrs. Jia continued. “Are you here to clean up?”

Clean up?

Tony frowned. What could there be to clean up? Hadn’t Natasha and the others taken care of everything? It had been over a _week_ since they had been captured – surely _someone_ had thought to take care of the mess they had left behind.

Mrs. Jia sighed tiredly, setting her fork down with a click. “Alright. I take it you were unaware of the fact that all of your stuff is still sitting in the beach houses you rented,”

Tony swallowed hard. Everything was still here? All of it? “Everything _everything_?” he croaked. “Or just some of everything,”

“ _Everything_ , everything, Mr. Stark. It’s all still there. I was debating on throwing it out, but luckily for you I never got around to it. I guess that means you’re going to be doing some cleaning tomorrow,” Mrs. Jia said with a wistful chuckle.

“I guess so,” Tony grunted. His gut clenched at the thought of having to weed through the kid’s things. He had thought he would be doing a bit of poking around here – a little mapping and listing. He hadn’t thought the kid’s things would still be here. Suddenly, the food didn’t look as appetizing as it once had. He set his fork down. “I should probably get on that. When do you want me to head over?” he asked, smiling weakly. His insides churned unpleasantly at the thought of seeing the beach house as it was now – trashed.

Mrs. Jia frowned at him, clearly not liking the look of his smile, and shook her head. “There is no way in hell I’m letting you do anything tonight. You’re not setting foot in either of those houses in the dark,”

“Why?” Tony wished he didn’t feel so damned relieved at the prospect of delaying the inevitable.

“Well, for one, there’s a lot of crap still inside that I didn’t bother cleaning up, and two, the light bulbs are all burned out and the windows were knocked out so I had to board them up. Whatever it was those crazy people used, it fried the entire electrical system – I was lucky it didn’t blow out the entire block! You’d be in the dark the entire time.”

“That sounds bad. I can take a look at it for you,” Tony said with a wince.

“Well, you can look all you want tomorrow. I’m not sure what works, and I’d rather not have to drive your sorry butt to the hospital if you slip and fall in there,” Mrs. Jia growled.

“I see,” Tony sighed. Well, at least he knew where he was going to be tomorrow morning. The routine would do him some good; it had been a long time since he had had a project to work on – one that wasn’t on his list because it needed to be – and he was glad for the distraction. The less time he had to think about Bucky Barnes and his goddamned arm, the better.

“Eat your dinner,” Mrs. Jia said, popping a piece of garlic toast into her mouth. “You’re going to have a long day tomorrow and you look like you need the extra strength,”

Tony grimaced and picked up his fork. “Has anyone ever told you you’re pushy?”

Mrs. Jia smiled sweetly. “Every weekend. My grandchildren think it’s fun to waste food,”

“Ah,” Tony said, scooping up another mouthful despite the fact that he no longer had an appetite.

“Don’t get me wrong. They’re good kids – but sometimes they just need a boot to the ass to get them going,” Mrs. Jia said, taking a sip of her root beer.

“Are they going to take over here?” Tony asked, curious.

Mrs. Jia snorted. “They’re all too big-city-minded to want to come back out here. I bought this place with my retirement money,” she said. “They help out when they can, but they’re not going to stay over for more than a few nights at a time. They have classes and work to keep them busy – I have this place, and I’m used to being alone,”

“That’s a shame,” Tony said, stuffing more food into his mouth. “It must be expensive paying for all of this on your own,”

Mrs. Jia’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying, Mr. Stark?”

Tony swallowed before speaking and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “I’ve been thinking,”

“Thinking? I have a feeling I’m not going to like this,” Mrs. Jia sighed.

“Well, the kid, he really liked this place,” Tony said. He faltered, words failing him. He looked down at his plate, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “This was one of his favourite places and I sort of promised him I’d make sure it was taken care of,”

Mrs. Jia’s grim expression melted away. “Did something happen to this child of yours, Mr. Stark?”

Tony’s mouth went dry. He grabbed for the root beer and took a swig. It didn’t help. “Yeah,” he said softly. “He’s gone now.”

“I see,” Mrs. Jia said, staring down into her bottle of root beer. “That’s a shame,”

Tony shrugged. “He’s not really gone. He’s just… I don’t know. He’s still here, just not really,”

“It’s hard to lose someone you love,” Mrs. Jia said. She took a slow sip, swirling her root beer. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost one of my little ones. It was bad enough losing a husband,”

Tony glance down at his plate and fought off tears; he stroked his hand down Mabel’s back and stayed quiet, forcing himself to breathe through his nose so he wouldn’t cry. The tears came anyway and no matter how hard he tried to clamp down on the sobs, those escaped too. Mabel meowed and rubbed her face against his chin, licking at his tears. He stroked her, dimly aware of her fur under his fingers.

“Well, that settles it. You’re staying here tonight,” Mrs. Jia said, setting a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony hadn’t even heard her stand up. She carted their dishes off to the sink and scraped the scraps into the garbage can.

“It’s not a big deal,” Tony said, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “I can stay anywhere. I’ll pay – it’s not a problem,”

“It is _too_ a problem,” Mrs. Jia said, not turning away from the sink as she worked at the dishes. “I’m not leaving you alone in an empty house to mourn. That would be thoughtless and cruel,”

“I’m a grown man,” he grunted.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Mrs. Jia said, looking over her shoulder. “Grown men are allowed to feel loss, you know.”

“I know that,” Tony mumbled. Mabel licked the tears off of his hand.

“Those men who came to take you and your boy away,” Mrs. Jia said, turning on the water. She noticed Tony flinch but didn’t ask about it. “They did something to you, didn’t they?”

“So what if they did,” Tony said, glaring at Mabel’s furry rump.

“You shouldn’t have to face that alone,” Mrs. Jia said.

Tony laughed darkly. “I wish that was true,”

Mrs. Jia smiled sadly. “I used to think like that too,” she said, setting the dishes down in hot, soapy water.

“Oh?” Tony sniffled, giving his nose another wipe. “How did that work out for you?”

“It didn’t end well,” she said. She scrubbed at a dish and then set it back into the water. “But then again, it never does when you leave scared and sad and I was so, so sad for a long time after my husband died. No matter what I did, it never seemed to go away. It clung – dug its fingers in – and while some days were good, others were downright awful. I could be working on one of the beach houses – cleaning it out for new guests – and all of a sudden the sadness would just come back. I broke more than a few brooms, I’ll tell you that much,”

Tony scratched at Mabel’s ear. He knew that kind of melancholy; he had felt the same way when Howard and Maria had died. It had felt like it was eating him from the inside out. The kid’s loss felt different. It seemed deeper – _stronger_ , somehow – like at any minute he could fall apart. He wondered if it was because he had actually _loved_ the kid. Sure, he had cared for his parents – but he had never worried about them the way he had worried for the kid – for Steve. Or maybe it wasn’t just the loss bothering him. Maybe it was because while the kid had needed him, Steve hadn’t seem to need to even be in the same room with him.

“Back then, I couldn’t cope. I turned so vicious, I couldn’t even recognize myself most of the time. It was too easy to sink into dark thoughts and because I didn’t feel like I had a reason to let other people in – to just talk about it, I sank deeper and deeper. Every time they asked me questions, and it felt like I was tearing open old wounds.”

“I know that feeling,” Tony muttered.

“My children were the ones who got the worst of it. They left most days thinking I was furious with them, but it wasn’t their fault. It was no one’s fault. My husband was dead, and I couldn’t bring myself to forgive my children for not understanding that it wasn’t them making me upset. It was that I was so terrified of being _alone_.” She sighed and rested her arms on the edge of the sink. “Loss is a tricky thing. We all handle it differently. My oldest son,” she said, nodding towards the wallpaper. “He decided to decorate the beach houses as a sort of tribute to his father.” She chuckled. “I thought it was a good idea until I saw the result.”

Tony smiled softly.

“That boy doesn’t have a stylish bone in his body, and it’s probably cost me more customers than it’s worth, but still, I’ve left the hideous mess the way it is because he _needs_ it to be here,” Mrs. Jia said. “Sometimes I think that’s what my husband would want too. He wasn’t around when I was thinking of buying the buildings, but I think he would have liked them. I think he would hate the wallpaper, but you know what?” She scrubbed at another dish. “I think he might have liked it too, because it was something that came out of love and _that’s_ what matters – the love will always be there. I know that he will live on inside that love. And no matter how horrible everything looks now and no matter how empty you feel, one day, it will get better. Your little one will always be there. He’s never truly gone.”

“I don’t know if I can sort through his stuff,” Tony admitted, his eyes welling up with tears again. “Steve’s gone through everything at the Tower already, but it still feels like… I don’t know – like someone’s cutting off a part of me,”

“You need to talk to him about it,” Mrs. Jia said. “Explain what you feel. Your friend isn’t psychic – you need to say it or he’s never going to know.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Tony sighed. “He doesn’t like to talk to me,”

“Did you raise your boy together?”

Tony blinked. “No,” he said finally, amused by the question. Him and Steve, raising a child? Somehow he didn’t think that would ever happen. It was a nice thought though. “No. He never met the kid, but they knew each other in a sense,”

“Then why is he the one digging through the child’s things?” Mrs. Jia asked, cocking her head to the side.

“I don’t know,” Tony said, feeling lost. Why _was_ Steve going through the kid’s things? It had seemed right at the time to let him have free reign over everything; it was all in his room, after all. But now that he thought about it, really truly thought about it, it didn’t seem _right_. Steve was a stranger to the kid’s life. He didn’t understand – but that wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t like they had explained anything to him.

“I understand what it’s like to not want to hurt someone’s feelings, but you need to set boundaries. This is _your_ loss – your _sadness_ – and your friend doesn’t get to decide anything for you. Talk to him,”

“Alright,” Tony nodded. He winced as Mabel did another lazy circle on his lap, sticking her boney feet onto his balls. “I’ll talk to him when I get back,” he promised.

“Good,” Mrs. Jia said. “Now get over here and help me with the dishes. They aren’t going to dry themselves,”

 

 

Mrs. Jia woke Tony up at five thirty in the morning; she had been up since four thirty, but had decided to let Tony ‘ _sleep in’_. Tony groaned and whined about being awake so early, but dragged himself out of bed and away from Mabel’s warm, fuzzy body anyway. He stalked his way into the kitchen and found breakfast already waiting for him.

They ate in silence, stuffing themselves with toast and oatmeal. When they were done, they did the dishes, fed Mabel a quick breakfast of mushy food and headed out.

The water was still just as much of a problem as before, but with Mabel held in his arms and Mrs. Jia walking in front of him, Tony found he could manage the walk without completely breaking out in a cold sweat. The salty air was easy to ignore with the scent of cat filling his nostrils. The only downside with her being that close was that it let Mabel rub her face against his chin and clean her teeth on his beard; her fish breath was god awful.

They reached the beach house.

Tony waited with his back to the beach while Mrs. Jia fought with the lock holding a piece of plywood over what had once been the front door. They walked inside together, flashlights held up in front of them like talismans to ward off evil. With the windows boarded up, there was no light inside, and everything the flashlight’s beam touched seemed to cast an eerie shadow. They moved carefully, watching where they walked for fear of stepping on something sharp. Tony was glad to be in his work boots; there were broken bits of glass scattered all over the carpet and while _most_ of the coffee table was still standing, there were splinters of wood lying on the floor around it. The damage was blessedly minimal – nothing a plastic bag, broom and dustpan couldn’t handle, but there was a distinctly abandoned look to the place now that no one was here. Clothing was scattered everywhere, and there were upended suitcase lying in the middle of the kitchen. It felt wrong to see the place so dirty.

Tony didn’t want to put Mabel down, but the choice apparently wasn’t his to make; she threw herself out his arms and hopped her way over to the first suitcase she found, plopping herself down on top of it. She started grooming herself and then curled up in a little ball and went to sleep.

“Well, at least someone’s happy,” Mrs. Jia commented, with a laugh. She opened up a cupboard and pulled out a box of garbage bags, yanking one free. She held it out to Tony. “You’d better start gathering everything up. They’re talking about rain today, and I’d rather not have to walk through it if I don’t have to,”

Tony took the bag and turned to the clothing. He made his way along the floor, scooping everything up, shaking glass and splinters free. Most of what was here was Coulson’s, although every once in a while he would stumble upon something of Clint’s mixed in with the mess. He cleaned up the front rooms, filled up his bag and went to get another before tackling the bedrooms.

The first bedroom wasn’t a problem; it was his, so most of what was here was stuff he hadn’t particularly cared for. Still, it was strange. He had done his fair share of packing, but it had never been like _this_ ; there had never been bits of broken glass and dirt trampled into the fabric, even after his rowdiest parties. He shook the blankets from his old bed out and folded them up, stuffing them into another plastic bag before they could get any dirtier. He did the same with the sheets and pillows before heading back out to deposit the bags in the hallway beside the front door.

He got a new handful of bags and headed into Coulson’s room as Mrs. Jia started sweeping up the debris in the living room.

The damage here was more severe.

There were burn marks on the mattress, and the floor and from what he could see there were more than a few darts buried in the walls. He stalked back into the kitchen, pulled a pair of thick work gloves out from under the sink, where he had stashed them weeks before, and snatched up a cup, taking his loot back into the bedroom. Pulling out the darts was the easy part. The tips were sharp, but they weren’t any different from the weaponry he had designed and tested for SI back in the day. It wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the fact that the body of the darts, filled with whatever knockout drugs Hydra had put in them, were structurally weak and cracked at even the tiniest bit of pressure. He cursed the poor design and dumped the broken darts into the cup piece by piece, cleaning up everything he could find so no one could accidentally knock themselves out. The last thing they needed was a workman stepping on something and being sent to the hospital.

With that taken care of, he turned to the closets with a new plastic bag in hand. Aside from a few shirts, there wasn’t much left here. Everything was likely already packed away, having been carried off and abandoned in the living room. He gradually stripped the bed, sighing at the burn marks in the sheets. These couldn’t be reused, but thankfully the blankets and pillows had survived the Hydra rampage. He stuffed them into a new plastic bag and carted everything out into the living room, setting it down with the rest of the bags already there, dumping the burned sheets into the scrap bag.

He grabbed a new pile of bags and steeled himself for what he was about to see. So far there had been no toys lying around – nothing colourful, or childish, either. He could _almost_ pretend that the kid hadn’t ever been here. He paused in the doorway, his hand held up to push open the door.

Mrs. Jia rested against her broom, watching him from a distance. “You can wait if you want. There’s no rush,”

“I know,” Tony said dully, trying not to peek through the crack in the door. If he didn’t look, it wouldn’t be here – but he couldn’t _not_ look. He needed to know what Hydra had done – he needed to know what was left of the kid. He moved forwards, pushing the door open and stepped inside.

The room was dark even with the door left open behind him. The flashlight in his hand felt heavy, as if it was made out of stone. He hoisted it up and shined it around the room, taking in his surroundings.

The kid’s things – _Steve’s_ things – were lying on the floor, scattered as if having been abandoned during play. If he hadn’t known better, he could have tricked himself into believing that the kid had been called away for dinner.

A stranger had been in here, someone who didn’t belong; _Hydra_ had been in here. He could tell because someone – some irresponsible, disgusting, _jackass_ – had stepped on things, leaving behind damage and dirty shoe prints. The plastic dishes the kid had once played with – ones that had been in perfect condition the last time Tony had seen them – were now snapped in half down the middle. What hadn’t been stepped on had been searched through and left in seemingly random piles. There was clothing scattered along the walls, and some of it had mud and sand splattered over it.

Tony gritted his teeth. The Hydra agents who had done this were likely already in custody at SHIELD HQ, but that didn’t make him feel any better. It felt like the bastards were still here, haunting the place. He got to work cleaning up their mess and started sorting through the kid’s clothing, putting the dirty stuff in a separate bag so he could get it washed. When he was done, satisfied with his work, he turned his attention to the toys.

The toys were harder to handle.

The Iron Man ball the kid had once played with was torn down the side; fluff and string dangled from the gaping hole. It wasn’t just torn, either. Someone had deliberately taken a knife to it, splitting the seams. Maybe they had thought something was hidden in it. Maybe they just hadn’t liked the look of it. Tony smoothed the torn fabric down with his thumb and shook his head. The kid was going to be –

His started crying. He felt his tears drip down his cheeks and hung his head, setting the flashlight down so he wouldn’t have to look at the damned stuffed toy anymore. His fingers remained buried in the soft, velvety fabric. He took comfort in the fact that the toy was there and not just a figment of his imagination. The kid had been _real_ – he had been real, and now he was gone.

His tears petered out eventually; his face felt sore once they were gone, but at least now he could think again. He turned the flashlight back on, grateful that Mrs. Jia had let him work in peace and set about examining the toy again. He could fix it, he realized, wiping his nose on his sleeve. It wouldn’t quite look the same, but it could be whole again. He picked at the stuffing that was still trying to escape and pushed it back inside, squashing the fabric closer, cradling it in his hands.

He had told the kid that he had wanted one just like this; now, he supposed, sadly, it was his for the taking. He put the Iron Man ball into a new plastic bag and moved on to the rest of the toys, mindful of the broken plastic around his knees.

He would have to throw out the plastic plates. There was nothing from the set to salvage. A few of the other toys were too damaged for repair, but most of the plush toys were salvageable. He felt around the floor, separating the torn teddy bears and mangled giraffes, tossing everything into the same bag so he wouldn’t lose anything. It wouldn’t do to misplace a lost limb.

All that was left now was the bedding. He methodically stripped the bed down, folding the Captain America sheets up in a neat square and then froze, noticing something resting between the mattress and the wall.

He knew what it was before he got at it. It was a miracle it had survived Hydra’s attack. He worked the stuffed bagel free from its hiding place, moving slowly to keep the metal frame pinning it to the wall from tearing a hole in the smooth fabric. He had wondered where the bagel had gotten to, and here it was. He hadn’t expected to find it at all, really; he had thought it had vanished forever. It was a little dusty, but perfectly intact. He ran his fingers over the stuffed sesame seeds, marveling again at the intricate stitch work.

When Mrs. Jia came in a moment later to check up on him, she found him crying. Tony couldn’t tell if they were happy tears or not, but they were there and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

Mrs. Jia rubbed circles on his back while he sobbed, murmuring softly into his ear. “It’s alright,” she said, over and over again.

After a while, it even felt like it really was alright after all.

 

 

They dragged the plastic bags over to Mrs. Jia’s house one at a time, setting them down in her spare bedroom. Mabel supervised the trips, running circles around them as they made their way across the sand. It was easy to hide his view of the water with a well-placed bag on his shoulder; he was proud of himself for only trembling this time. He was too emotionally exhausted to feel much else, it seemed.

After a quick lunch of sandwiches and coffee, they returned to finish scrubbing the floors clean. Mabel refused to come inside after that; she seemed to dislike the smell of Pinesol as much as Tony did, but she was lucky and got to spend the rest of the afternoon sunbathing on the porch – unlike him.

After dinner, Tony found himself a spot on Mrs. Jia’s couch and pulled out the bag of toys again, ready to fix them up. He set the Iron Man ball down on the coffee table and frowned at it, unsure of where to start. He was used to more complicated objects, things made of metal and plastic, not fabric. Jarvis – the butler, Jarvis – had always been the one to fix his stuffed animals when he was a child. And even though he had done plenty of work making uniforms for the Avengers, Tony hadn’t ever physically had to sew the pieces together. There had always been machines for that work.

“You’ll be needing a needle and thread,” Mrs. Jia chuckled, patting Tony on the shoulder. “Let me get my sewing kit.” She returned with a plastic ice cream pail and set it down in front of Tony, who gawked it in confusion.

“What?” Mrs. Jia snorted. “Didn’t your mother have one like this?”

Tony shook his head. “My mother didn’t sew. She had other people for that,”

“Ah,” Mrs. Jia said, opening up the ice cream pail. She pulled out spools of thread and held them up to compare with the Iron Man ball’s fabric; settling on a crimson thread, she handed it to Tony and fished out a needle. “Do you know how to do this? Or am I going to have to clean blood off the couch?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,”

Ten minutes later, he held the needle and thread up to Mrs. Jia; the Iron Man ball dangled at the end of the blood soaked string. “Help?”

Mrs. Jia sat down on the couch next to him and took the Iron Man ball from him. She sighed and shook her head. “You’re really _bad_ at this,”

“I haven’t exactly had a lot of practice,” Tony grumbled, sucking at his bleeding thumb. He had managed to stab himself no less than twenty six times. He was man enough to admit when he needed instructions.

Mrs. Jia smiled softly and pulled out a two pronged object with red knobs on the ends. “This is a stitch ripper,” she said, showing it to him. She put the longest prong under the first set of crooked, wide, stitches and pulled, severing the thread. She worked her way along the line, taking out Tony’s disastrous attempt, muttering under her breath when she got to a particularly stubborn stitch. “Now,” she said, stripping the thread from the needle so she had new, unsoiled thread to use, “we start here,”

Tony watched as she made her first lines, each stitch neat and tiny. When she was done, she tied the string off with a series of knots and then cut the excess string off. She loaded the needle up once more so she could start the next line, and chuckled when she noticed that Tony was watching her.

“What?” Tony said, looking away in a huff.

“Nothing,” Mrs. Jia said, smiling a little bit harder. “You just remind me of someone.” It took her far less time to repair the damage to the Iron Man ball than Tony had expected, and by the time she was finished, it looked just like it had come straight off the store shelf. Tony held it up, running his fingers over the nearly invisible stitches.

“Impressive,” he said.

Mrs. Jia chuckled and reached for the plastic bag filled with toys. “Tell you what,” she said, nodding towards the kitchen. “You make dinner, and I’ll sew these up,”

“Deal,” Tony said, jumping up. “What do you want me to make?”

“That depends. What kinds of things can you cook?” Mrs. Jia asked.

“That depends,” Tony said, turning to the fridge. “What do you have?”

Mrs. Jia picked up a ripped plush octopus and felt around the base of the first torn tentacle, fishing its twin out of the bag. She pinned the torn tentacles in place with ease, her skilled fingers sticking pins in over and over again until they had sealed the fabric together again. “There’s plenty of ingredients to work with. You decide. Anything is fine,”

“That’s not a good answer,” Tony snorted. “Just don’t hit me if I burn anything, alright?”

Mrs. Jia laughed.

 

Tony reheated chicken soup from a can and boiled up some extra noodles, dumping them into the soup to make it more filling. He wasn’t very proud of his concoction, but at least it didn’t taste like it had been scraped off the bottom of a bus seat when he was done. Mrs. Jia’s cupboards were a terrifying place to snoop, mostly because he couldn’t tell what half of the stuff was; she had jars upon jars of unlabeled spices, and while he was normally a very daring individual, he had no interest in fiddling with anything more complicated than a can opener after such a long day.

Mrs. Jia didn’t mind. She seemed happy to simply have food hot ready and waiting in front of her. When she was done stitching up the last of the stuffed animals, she came and joined Tony at the dining room table. She cracked her knuckles and let out a long, weary, yawn. Tony set a bowl of soup in front of her and went back to his own bowl.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “I know it’s not gourmet, or anything,”

“Its fine,” Mrs. Jia said, picking up a spoon. She took a sip and nodded approvingly. “You did a good job,”

“It’s just soup,” Tony said, shrugging.

“My son routinely burns soup,” Mrs. Jia chuckled. “Consider yourself talented by comparison,”

“Alright,” Tony laughed.

After a few minutes of quiet slurping, Mrs. Jia looked up from her soup. “Did you mean it? What you said about wanting to take care of this place?”

“I meant it,” Tony said.

“I’m curious – did you want to buy it?” Mrs. Jia asked.

“Did you want to sell it?” Tony asked in response, cocking his head to the side.

Mrs. Jia sighed and set down her spoon. “No. I really don’t want to sell the resort, but it’s a lot for one person to handle,”

“I can see that,” Tony said dryly.

“I’m not sure what to do,” Mrs. Jia said, shaking her head. “I’ve been offered money by more than a few companies – they’re telling me the land is worth more now than it was when I bought it, and that it would be in my best interest to sell it _now_. But I don’t know,”

“Do you still want to run a resort?” Tony asked, setting down his spoon.

“Yes,” Mrs. Jia said, firmly. “I want to stay here. I love the place – and yes,” she sighed, “every once in a while some _jackass_ comes in and trashes one of the buildings, but it’s worth it,”

Tony grinned sheepishly.

“I would like to propose a deal,” Mrs. Jia said, resting her hands on the table. “If you are interested in buying the resort, I would be interested in selling it to you – with some stipulations in place,”

“I’m listening,” Tony said.

“I propose a deal. You can buy the resort – the buildings, the land, everything – but only if you agree to my conditions. Firstly, the resort needs to stay open. I would like to stay on as a caretaker,” Mrs. Jia said. “Secondly, my house will stay mine,”

“Alright,” Tony said. “What else?”

“What else?” Mrs. Jia looked confused. “What do you mean what _else_?”

“I mean what else do you want to add in? I’m assuming you have more demands than just those two,” Tony said with a smile.

Mrs. Jia shook her head as if to clear her confusion. “Yes. Well, I want to keep the buildings the way they are – well, at least a few of them. What did you plan to do with the resort?”

“I was thinking about turning it into a vacation home slash getaway for the Avengers,” Tony said. “We only need a few of the buildings though, so the others could still be rented out and kept the way they are now,”

Mrs. Jia nodded. “That sounds good to me. Are you planning on knocking any of them down?”

“I have plans for a few of the buildings, yes, and those do involve construction, but whatever I take down, I promise to replace,” Tony said, putting his hand over his heart. “I want to do upgrades on the rest of the resort – you know, making the bathrooms and electrical and all that crap work better. I’ll probably put in some security too. I don’t want to tear down _everything_ , but I wouldn’t mind making sure it’s all up to code again,”

“That seems fair,” Mrs. Jia said.

“If you don’t mind,” Tony said, putting on his best business smile, “I’d like to add a few things to the deal as well,”

“Oh?” Mrs. Jia leaned back in her chair. “Alright. Let’s hear it,”

“For one, I want to pay for Mabel’s vet bills, food bills and whatever costs you incur from keeping her,” Tony said.

“Really,” Mrs. Jia said. She looked a little like she was trying not to cry.

“Really,” Tony said. “I’d also like to include medical benefits and wages for you and your family – assuming they want to be involved,”

“Mr. Stark,” Mrs. Jia protested, sounding stunned. “That’s a lot to consider,”

Tony held up a hand. “That’s not all. I would also like to offer whatever help I can if and when you ever need it. That extends to college tuition, or rent or whatever you and your family need.”

“But why?” Mrs. Jia asked.

Tony shrugged. “I like you,”

“Liking someone doesn’t mean you have to fund their entire family’s life,” Mrs. Jia said dryly.

Tony chuckled. “Well, let’s put it this way then. I like the cat, and in order for the cat to have the best life possible, I need to take care of the humans that take care of the cat,”

Mrs. Jia rolled her eyes. “When you put it that way, it makes so much more sense,”

Tony chuckled.

“I think we have a deal then,” Mrs. Jia said.

“Good,” Tony said, picking up his spoon. “I’ll talk to my lawyers when I get back to New York and get them to draw up a contract and a bill of sales.”

Mrs. Jia nodded, reaching for her spoon. She stared at it for a moment and then looked up at Tony, her eyes watering. “Thank you,” she said.

“Not a problem,” Tony said, slurping up a spoonful of soup.

“It means a lot to me,” Mrs. Jia said, smiling at Tony.

“It means a lot to me too,” Tony said, smiling back.

 

 

He was just drifting off to sleep when his phone rang. Fumbling blindly, he managed to drag it closer to his face. “What’s up, Jarvis?”

“Sir – the Avengers are in need of your assistance. There has been an attack on both Stark Tower and SHIELD’s headquarters,” Jarvis said.

Tony sat up, catching himself on the headboard before he could tumble onto the floor. He scrambled in the dark, heaving himself upright and staggered for the door, nearly tripping when Mabel shot out into the hallway in front of him. By the time he got out into the foyer, Mrs. Jia was already there waiting for him, her sleep clothes in disarray, her eyes wide.

“What’s going on?” Mrs. Jia asked.

“Someone’s attacking my tower,” Tony said, struggling into his work boots. “I need to go.” He was glad he had fallen asleep while still dressed, because he was fairly certain if he had been forced to dress now, he would have ended up with his pants on backwards and his shirt stuck over his head. He unlocked the front door and stumbled out onto the grass. The rain that hit his face was startlingly cold; he shivered and wiped at his cheeks. He had forgotten all about the storm. It hadn’t seemed so bad when he had settled down for the night.

The suit opened up and he slid inside before he could get a better look at anything other than the HUD.

Mrs. Jia stood framed in the door, her hands on her hips. “What do you want me to do with all of your stuff?”

Tony pulled the faceplate down. “Have it shipped priority mail to my place – I’ll pay you back for everything – including the time I spent sleeping in your guest room,”

“Alright,” Mrs. Jia said. “Tell you what – instead, of paying me for your stay, why don’t you just keep yourself out of the hospital, Mr. Stark.”

“I make no promises,” Tony said, firing up the repulsors. “But I’ll try and keep that in mind. Thanks for everything.” He shot up into the air and turned for New York. “Jarvis – what’s going on over there?”

“I’m afraid the news is not good,” Jarvis said. “Agent Romanoff reports that Hydra agents are currently trying to get into the building, but so far the security system is holding its own. SHIELD’s is having much more trouble. The force attacking its front doors is much larger,”

“Shit,” Tony muttered. “Any sign of the Skull?”

“No sir,” Jarvis responded. “For the time being, he appears to be elsewhere. Captain Rogers is searching for him, but so far no one has seen anyone that even resembles the Skull and none of the cameras in the area have picked up on him,”

 _Steve_ was out looking for the Skull?

 _Steve-I-have-no-serum Rogers_ was out looking for the Red Skull?

Tony’s chest felt like it had been crushed. He took in a deep breath, trying to remain calm. Now was not the time to panic.

Screw that!

What the hell had Steve been thinking?

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Get us there _faster_ ,”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if anything is weird or doesn't make sense! : ) Thanks!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony returned to the Tower expecting to fight....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for disturbing imagery (about flamethrowers and the damage they can do). It's nothing big (and nothing actually happens) but I'd rather warn people than freak someone out.

Tony’s stomach was churning so badly that by the time they reached New York he was ready to open the faceplate and puke on the first villain he saw; if there had been an actual Hydra agent around he might have actually tried it but sadly he wasn’t able to spot anyone dangerous. He scanned the streets as he flew by, hoping to find someone he could blast. The data he got back wasn’t helpful in the least, but it did tell him that most of the civilians had already been cleared from the area. On the plus side, there wasn’t any danger, but on the bad side, there wasn’t anyone around who wasn’t a SHIELD agent. He couldn’t see anything out of place, either; everything seemed, well, _normal_. He found five police officers and first responders hiding behind a van and seven more hugging the sides of a supermarket. There seemed to be a blackout happening and aside from the Tower, block after block was drained of power. Even the street lights weren’t working.

The closer he got to Stark Tower, the weirder the readings got. There was nothing here – no energy, no life forms – nada, and then, as he made a final sweep, out of nowhere there was a flare of energy on the HUD.

Where could that kind of power be coming from?

The Tower was completely self-sufficient – he had done all the work himself – and there was nothing in his possession that should have been throwing off _that_ kind of extra energy. Even the Arc reactor wasn’t that powerful.

It had to be Hydra’s work.

“Jarvis – scan the crowds again. Is that what I think it is?” Tony grunted. “Because that better not be something Tesserect based, or I’m going to be _very_ unhappy,”

“I’m sorry to inform you, sir, but yes, the energy readings are similar to that of the Tesserects,” Jarvis said, “I am afraid I cannot locate the source of the energy. I do, however, have some good news,”

“Oh yeah? Lay it on me,”

“Most of the Hydra agents around us are not, in fact, human,”

“The Skull is using bots now?” Tony snorted. “Fantastic. I guess that’s a good way to get an army in a hurry. I never thought he’d start outsourcing. This is probably AIM’s tech,”

“Agreed, sir,” Jarvis said with a sigh. “One moment – I’m afraid the Tesserect readings are growing weaker. Whatever the Skull was using appears to have been moved elsewhere.”

“The mother fucker probably opened up another portal,” Tony growled, glancing around. He knew he wouldn’t see anything suspicious, but it was better than shaking his fist in the air. “Any clue as to where the device was before it left?”

“I’m afraid there are far too many similar signatures in the vicinity to narrow it down to simply one location. It appears that there were multiple devices,” Jarvis said. “I am calculating locations now,”

“Good,” Tony said. “I want to catch that son-of-a-bitch,”

As they flew the last few feet to the sidewalk in front of the Tower, Tony started spotting piles of torn metal; some of it was still in familiar shapes. A few of the pieces looked like limbs, while others resembled legs, heads and torsos. Even without seeing a full body, he knew they had been similar in structure to a human until they met their untimely demise. It was clear that his superhuman teammates had been out and about today, because while he knew Natasha and Clint were physically strong, he didn’t think they could tear a human-sized bot apart with their bare hands. He glanced around as he landed, but couldn’t spot Thor or the Hulk anywhere.

Where had the team gone?

Shouldn’t someone still be out here? Had they not won?

“Who’s in the game still?” Tony asked, blasting a bot as it grabbed at the armor’s boots. The bot dropped to the ground, sparks flying from the shiny new holes in its head and lay there twitching. “Anyone need any help? We’re winning, right?”

“I have located Agent Romanoff’s signal and will connect you with her now,” Jarvis said.

Natasha’s voice was raspy when it came through the comms. “ _Stark_? Is that you? It better be you.” She coughed violently and then took in a deep breath. “Shit.”

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m outside the Tower right now. What’s going on? Are you alright? That’s a nasty cough you’ve got there,” Tony said, glancing around the streets again for signs of danger. He was not going to be jumped by any more Hydra agents – not again.

“You’re late,” Natasha grunted. “We’re almost done here.”

Tony sighed. “I see.” _Great_. He had flown all the way here, not sleeping for even a few minutes in case he was needed, and he had missed the _entire_ goddamned battle.

“We used an EMP to take the bots down,” Natasha said. “It’s better that you weren’t here, really. You wouldn’t have enjoyed it,”

Tony winced. An EMP was serious business, even if it was only designed to last for a short time. He had encountered them often enough to know just how dangerous they could be when in the wrong hands. Every piece of arc reactor technology he used these days had EMP resistance built in. He hadn’t been willing to risk the electromagnet in his chest shutting off – not now that he was always in such close contact with a guy who could summon electricity at will. “At least that explains why the grid is dead,” he muttered. He hoped he wasn’t going to get stuck footing the bill for fixing everything. He had replaced the main grid twice already, and he wasn’t looking forward to doing it again.

“How’s everyone doing? Any injuries?” Tony asked.

“We’re doing alright.” Natasha sighed. She sounded tired, as though speaking was too much work. “The Captain’s down,”

“What?” Tony’s voice turned shrill. Steve was hurt? “What happened? Is he alright? Where are you? Where is he? Are you alright?” He tapped into the Tower’s security system and skimmed the video streams, trying to find both Natasha and Steve, hoping that they were still within reach of the cameras.

He was in luck – at least when it came to finding Natasha. She was indeed inside the Tower. He found her first. She was on the ninth floor, surrounded by overturned chairs and a scorch-marked table. She was in an office that was usually occupied by data entry clerks. She looked like she had fought her way through a firestorm; her hair was blackened in spots and her face was streaked with soot and blood. Her jumpsuit was burned off in places, revealing patches of pinkish skin. She coughed again and leaned against the nearest chair, bracing herself until her coughs subsided. Tony wondered where she had been, considering there was no sign of fire around her.

“Relax. He’s in the Tower in the Medical Wing, and he’s fine,” Natasha sighed.

“What happened?”

“We were looking for the Skull down in the sewers. Steve insisted on coming with us even though he wasn’t going to be of any use if we did actually catch up,” Natasha said. Her voice sounded painfully hoarse. She turned and started coughing again, slumping as she was staggered by the force of it. She caught her breath again and continued speaking. “Barnes and I managed to keep him from getting outright killed, we couldn’t save him from himself.”

“Is it bad?” Tony asked in a small voice. Please, he thought, please let Steve be alright.

“He’s going to have a bruised ego along with the rest of his injuries, but he’ll be fine,” Natasha chuckled darkly. “We chased the bastards into an office building a few blocks away from the Tower. It was all rather anticlimactic. We were running, guns drawn and ready to fire and then Steve tripped and fell into a chair.” Natasha chuckled sadly. “He got up, seemed to shake it off, and then one of the Hydra goons we were chasing slammed him back into the chair. He cracked four ribs, bruised his hip, and put his back out,”

Tony let out a long slow breath. Cracked ribs were bad, but they were better than brain damage. Bruises weren’t so bad either. The back though – that one would be a pain in the ass, even if it wasn’t long-lasting. “So he’s alright?”

“He’s unconscious and in the Tower’s medical wing, but yes, he’s alright,” Natasha said. “He’ll survive – assuming you and Barnes don’t throttle him to death,”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, really.” He gave the surrounding buildings another thorough scan, but didn’t pick up anything strange. Everything was peaceful. The battle was over and judging by the lack of movement, it had ended quite some time ago.

“So, may I ask why you were playing with _fire_?” Tony asked.

Natasha squinted at the security camera nearest her, sighed and collapsed into a padded chair. “Well, there was a flamethrower,”

Tony winced. “Who the fuck brings a _flamethrower_ into an _office building_?”

“Hydra agents,” Natasha shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad.” She gave her bodysuit a sniff and sneezed. “Correction,” she said, wiping her nose on what was left of her left sleeve, “It could have been worse. I was fortunate enough to have a table to hide behind. The man I turned the flamethrower back on, wasn’t as lucky,”

Tony couldn’t keep himself from gagging at the imagery conjured up by her words; he opened the face plate, afraid of throwing up in the suit, and took in a deep breath through his nose. “That’s _disgusting_ ,” he wheezed when he had control of his stomach again.

“It happens in war more frequently than you would think,” Natasha said with a shrug. “You get used to it after a while,”

“Yeah, well,” Tony said, covering his mouth again with his hand, “No one wants to see someone become a piece of human _barbeque_ ,”

“Oh relax, Stark,” Natasha snorted. “It was just a _bot_. I didn’t light a _human_ on fire – this time,”

“ _This time_? Is that supposed to reassure me?” Tony asked, putting the faceplate back up, relieved that he wasn’t going to have to arrange clean up for that particular mess. SHIELD could hire the scrap collectors for all he cared.

“No,” Natasha said. “Did you _want_ me to reassure you?”

“No,” Tony muttered. “I guess not.” He turned towards the Tower and fired up his repulsors, hurling himself into the sky. There was nothing else to do now – at least not down here. He knew where he needed to be. He soared towards the landing pad and let Jarvis scan him so he could land without getting his ass shot off.

“Are Pepper and Rhodey alright?” Tony asked.

“They’re fine,” Natasha said. “They went over to SHIELD to help defend the prisoner’s barracks about three hours ago,”

“The Skull was there to break someone _out_?” Tony asked, frowning. He was surprised to hear that the Skull had stuck his neck out for someone else – even if it had been a proverbial neck at best; the guy didn’t seem like the type who helped people out of a jam unless he meant to make it much, much, worse for them.

“From what we can tell, yes, that’s what he was doing,” Natasha said. “I’ve been trying to call SHIELD for confirmation, but I think someone must have set off an EMP there too. I’m hoping it was one of us, but you never know. It must have messed with their comms,”

“I doubt the Skull was there personally– if they could make a bunch of hydra goons out of spare nuts and bolts, they could make themselves a Red Skull,” Tony muttered.

“Exactly my thoughts,” Natasha said. “Steve agreed too. That’s why we were in the sewers in the first place. He figured the Skull was up to something, but since we never actually found him, I guess we’ll never know – at least not until he decides to attack again and show us.”

“Alright, so what do you want me to do? Do you want me to head over to SHIELD?” Tony asked, pausing on the landing platform. He didn’t really want to help SHIELD out, but he would if he had to.

“No, don’t bother heading over,” Natasha said. “The Hulk and Thor are already there. It’s better if you stay here and keep guard. I’d rather have a heavy hitter here to watch over the place. With Steve down for the count we need the suit now more than ever,”

“Yeah,” Tony grimaced at the comment, but didn’t comment. Picking a fight now was pointless. “I get what you mean. You going to head up to medical? You seem like you could use a checkup,”

“I’ll get there when I get there,” Natasha grumbled. “You should go visit Steve. He’s resting, but someone should be with him when he wakes up,”

“But –”

“No buts, Stark. Go sit with him. He could use the company,” Natasha snapped.

“It should be Sharon sitting with him,” Tony muttered, making his way through his penthouse. He kept the suit on, knowing that there wasn’t a floor in his building that couldn’t handle the weight of it.

“She’s busy,” Natasha said. “Besides, I think he’d rather see _you_ ,”

“Yeah, right,” Tony said, calling the elevator. “I think you hit your head. You should have that looked at,”

 

 

Steve was unconscious, but he looked like he was sleeping. The medical staff had long since retreated to the other side of the room, and Tony was alone for the time being, at least until Bucky came back from the bathroom. He pulled up a chair and rested his elbows on his knees. He was still wearing the suit, but thankfully it wasn’t awkward to sit in it.

The machines around them beeped softly. Steve was hooked up to only the one – a heart monitor – but it still made Tony’s heart ache at the mere sight of it; he watched the display ping, trying not to panic. He was never going to get used to the sound of it.

Bucky slunk into the room, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He was wearing a grey sweat suit and slippers, and looked like he was about to drop to the floor at any moment. He grabbed his abandoned chair and pulled it over so he could sit beside Tony, collapsing into it with a tired _oomph_.

“He’s fine, you know. There’s no need to look so damn glum,” Bucky said.

Tony shook his head. “I should have been here,”

“You couldn’t have stopped him from charging off after the Skull like a moron,” Bucky grunted. “Believe me – we tried to get him to back the fuck off, but he didn’t want to let the Skull get away. We only agreed to let him tag along, instead of knocking his boney ass unconscious, because we figured the Skull might come out in the open if he knew Steve was around,”

“So you used him as _bait_ ,” Tony said, his insides going numb. He looked up from the floor and locked eyes with Bucky. “You used him as _bait_?”

“ _Technically_?” Bucky looked away, his face pale, his expression drawn. “Yes. We took the risk. We didn’t want to do it, but it was the only way we could convince him to stick with us,”

“He was that angry, huh?”

“He wasn’t _listening_ ,” Bucky grumbled. “He was threatening to go off on his own with nothing but a gun and his shield.”

“Can he even _lift_ his shield?”

Bucky gently smacked Tony in the back of the head. “Very _funny_. Just don’t let _him_ hear you say that,”

“How bad is he hurt?” Tony sighed, rubbing his head. He supposed he deserved it. If he had been here, Steve wouldn’t be in a hospital bed. He glanced down at his helmet where it sat nestled between his feet.

“Personally, I think he got off easy,” Bucky muttered.

“Oh? Natasha told me a bit, but I wanted to hear it straight from the doctors,” Tony said.

“I’ll tell you what they told me,” Bucky grunted, nodding towards Steve. “He’s going to be uncomfortable as hell when he wakes up but he probably won’t be bedridden for more than a week this time.” Bucky ran his fingers through his greasy hair and winced. Steve wasn’t the only one sporting wounds, it seemed. Bucky’s skin was littered with bruises old and new. The ones on his neck and wrist were shaped like fingers; the one on the left side of his chin was more of a misshaped blob than anything and was turning a nasty shade of purple.

“He’s drugged up, I take it?” Tony asked, smiling crookedly.

“ _Heavily_. He put his back out, cracked some ribs and took a nasty blow to the head. The medic who checked him out said we were lucky he didn’t have a concussion or brain damage,” Bucky muttered darkly. “I think they were surprised to see him alive, honestly,”

“He looked that bad?” Tony asked, looking up.

“He always looks pretty bad when he’s hurt. He’s so fucking small, it always feels like a feather could kill him,” Bucky shrugged. He reached out and ran his fingers through Steve’s hair, revealing a neat set of stitches. “They’re precautionary – but they’re there. He’s lucky they didn’t have to shave his entire head,”

Tony groaned into his hands. “He’s not going to be happy about being stuck in a bed,”

“He’s used to it,” Bucky grunted. “He’ll get over it. All he needs is the right _someone_ to keep him company.” He winked at Tony and leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the mattress.

Tony scowled. “Yeah, because seeing _me_ is going to make him _so_ happy,”

Bucky scowled at Tony. “What are you talking about? Steve _likes_ you,”

“No,” Tony grunted, reaching for his helmet, “He doesn’t. He hates my guts,”

“Oh please,” Bucky snorted, knocking Tony’s hands away from the helmet. “He wants you here. Believe me.”

“Let’s agree to disagree on that one,” Tony grumbled. He rubbed a gauntleted hand over the bridge of his nose. Clearly, Bucky had taken one too many blows to the head too. Had _everyone_ on the Avengers been knocked in the head today?

“How did the arm work out for you? I’m assuming it’s still there,” Tony said, happy to change the subject to something he could deal with.

Bucky yawned. “Oh, it worked like a dream, but it sticks a little now.”

“What?” Tony grunted. “What did you do to it?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Bucky grumbled. “Ok, _fine_ ,” he said, shifting in his chair. “I used it to block a couple of steel batons and now it slows down when I raise it above my head,”

“Great,” Tony sighed. “I’ll factor that into the next build designs. Must withstand blows from steel batons. Anything else you want me to change while I’m at it?”

“I wouldn’t mind it being a bit lighter,” Bucky said, rubbing at his flesh-and-blood-shoulder.

“Has it always done that?” Tony asked. He lifted his head and opened one eye, unwilling to devote more energy to the discussion. “Does it fuck up your other shoulder?”

“Yeah,” Bucky grunted, letting his arm drop. “I don’t think the guys who built it thought about how heavy it is. I guess they just figured the problems would work themselves out somehow,”

Tony snorted and closed his eye again. “Figures.” He let out a jaw-cracking yawn. With Steve safe, and Hydra chased off with their tails between their legs, there wasn’t much left for him to do, and he was tired of thinking about upgrades for Bucky’s arm. Steve didn’t really need an honor guard – not with Bucky here – but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He supposed a nap wouldn’t get him in _too_ much trouble. He ordered the suit to lock itself down so he wouldn’t fall out of the chair and let himself drift off to sleep.

 

 

“Tony?” Steve’s voice cracked.

Tony jerked awake and looked around, trying to get his bearings. The nightmare he had been having was gone, run off by Steve’s voice, but from what he could remember it had been filled with endless oceans. He scrubbed a hand over his face tried to ignore the sound of Bucky sniggering at him.

“Hey,” Tony croaked, moving closer to the bed until his knees were pressed up against the side of the mattress.

Steve was lying on his back; he grimaced in pain when he tried to sit up, apparently unaware of his injuries. The dopy grin on his face made it seem as if he was having the time of his life. He reached out, making an ill-advised grab for Tony’s hand and missed. He frowned and tried again, his fingers just skimming Tony’s gauntleted hand. He gave it a third shot and then noticed Bucky. “Oh,” he mumbled, pulling his arm over his chest. “Sorry,”

Sorry?

Tony felt a little like he had walked in on a conversation that had started without him. Why the hell was _Steve_ apologizing to _him_? _He_ was the one who had flown off and left the team to deal with things by themselves – it hadn’t been _Steve_ who had left. He hung his head and stared down at the suit’s knees, wishing he knew what to say to fix things.

“What the fuck are _you_ sorry for?” Bucky grunted, saving Tony the work of thinking up something to say. He pushed his chair back and stood up, stalking around the bed so he could throw himself down on the mattress beside Steve. Apparently now that Steve was awake he had no qualms about lying down.

Steve grimaced when the bed bounced under Bucky’s added weight. “I don’t know,”

“He’s _not_ sorry,” Bucky said, closing his eyes. “He’s just being an idiot. Ignore him.”

Tony smiled weakly. “It’s me who should be saying sorry. I shouldn’t have left,”

“It’s fine, Tony,” Steve mumbled, his eyelids slowly drooping. He gave his head a shake and then winced. “What happened to my _head_?”

“You hit it,” Bucky chuckled. “You don’t remember?”

“I remember,” Steve said sullenly. “I was just wondering.” He reached up to touch his hair and heaved a sigh when Bucky slapped his hand away.

“No _touching_!” Bucky said.

“It’s _my_ hair!” Steve slurred.

“You’ve got stitches! Stop fiddling with them!” Bucky growled.

Tony stood up and pushed the chair away. Well, if they were going to start arguing, he might as well make himself comfortable. He had a feeling he was going to be here for a while.

Steve sighed softly, turning his head so he could watch Tony. “You’re leaving _already_?”

“Nope,” Tony said quickly, moving towards the nearest wall. He ordered the armor to open up and stepped out, returning to the chair. He cracked his back before he sat back down and stretched his arms over his head, trying not to yawn. “You’re stuck with me.”

Steve smiled softly. “Yeah?”

“I’m afraid so,” Tony said. He made himself comfortable in the chair, but didn’t put his feet up on the mattress; his work boots were still too caked with sand, and while he could have taken them off, it would be easier to jump into the suit with them still on. He hated getting glass and rocks stuck in his bare feet, and it was always nice to have a layer between him and the metal of the Iron Man’s boots in case of emergencies.

“Tony?” Steve mumbled, his eyes drooping shut. “Are you still here?”

“I’m here, Steve,” Tony said, taking Steve’s hand in his.

“Good.” Steve fell asleep smiling.

 

 

The smiles didn’t last. The moment Steve woke up again, almost a full day later, he was ready to go after the Skull and furious that he couldn’t. He glared at everyone who came near his bed and spent most of the morning muttering under his breath about how Tony and Bucky should be out tracking the Skull instead of babysitting him. Natasha stopped by to visit and then retreated to her own floor to recuperate. Her burns had been superficial, and her hair had taken the worst of the damage.

Tony tried to keep the negativity in the room at bay by bringing down books he knew Steve liked; it worked for a few hours, but soon Steve was back to being grouchy.

Undeterred, Tony tried again, bringing in a television so Steve could watch movies. That worked a bit better, but after a while Steve grew tired of it too and returned to the books. Eventually Bucky got tired of Steve’s muttering and retreated to his own room.

Tony worked while he sat at Steve’s bedside. He ordered in ten cases of different snack foods, making sure to get a little bit of everything Steve had liked as a child; worse come to worse, he could always just eat the stuff himself, he reasoned and he had more than a few friends that would help him out if he couldn’t finish it all. God knows he needed the food. His cupboards were bare, and Jarvis had only just ordered in more food. With so many new mouths to feed, he had a feeling their usual shipments would be far too small. He approved another order for more food on his tablet, making sure every floor had a fully restocked larder. Every cupboard would be stuffed to the brim by the time he was done.

Thor and the Hulk still weren’t back; they were sequestered in SHIELD – which meant they were standing guard and making sure Hydra wasn’t going to appear from the sewers or some other unlikely place. They were going to be _hungry_ by the time they made it back, and food needed to be easy to find. He did not want to have to pay for more construction if the Hulk had a temper tantrum because he couldn’t find enough to eat. It had happened once so far and he wasn’t letting it happen again.

Steve looked up from his copy of the Hobbit; it was dog-eared and the one book he had requested by name. It had come from Tony’s personal library. “You don’t have to stick around, you know,” Steve said.

“I know,” Tony said, his eyes still on his tablet. He went back to scrolling through lists of food while shopping for an extra freezer at the same time. They were going through plenty of meat these days and it would be worth the investment. He changed webpages and continued searching for the seemingly mythical brand of mushy peas he knew Steve loved.

Oh!

Here they were!

And they were on sale!

He added ten boxes of mushy peas and went on to look for pork and beans, Rhodey’s favourite lazy-man meal.

“Tony,” Steve sighed, setting the book down in his lap. “Shouldn’t you be doing something else? I’m sure _Bucky_ wouldn’t mind the company,”

Tony looked up from his tablet, aghast at the mere _thought_ of spending more time alone with Bucky. They saw each other practically every _hour_ these days. He wanted some damn Steve-time, not _Bucky_ -time. “Why the hell would I want to spend time with _Bucky_? He’s just going to harass me about his arm – it’s _nice_ here. I’d rather work where it’s quiet,”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look,” he said. “I get that you think you need to keep me company, but I’m fine – _really_ ,”

“Everything I need to do, I can do from here,” Tony said with a shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve said, his voice strained.

“What?”

“You don’t need to sit here with me.” Steve lifted his book up again, turning back to the page he had started reading. “I’m fine. You should be out looking for the Skull,”

“I’ve got Jarvis doing that,” Tony said, breezily. “He’s doing the exact same things he would do if I was in my workshop – believe me. The bots might be missing me but he’s not,”

“Fine,” Steve muttered, turning the page.

Tony went back to staring at his tablet, frowning. He was pretty sure he had been on his best behavior today, so why did Steve want to get rid of him? Had he said something wrong? He was tempted to check with Jarvis just to be sure, but then a thought struck him. Maybe it wasn’t _him_. Maybe it was the lack of _food_ making Steve so irritable.

Could that be it?

Could it be _that_ simple?

Well, there was only one way to tell for certain. He glanced at the clock on the tablet. They hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and it had been over three hours since then. If he was right, getting something to eat would put Steve in a _fantastic_ mood. He worked quickly and ordered in burgers, making sure to pick the biggest, greasiest ones he could find. He added extra fries and milkshakes to their order and sent it out. After a few minutes he got up, pretending to stretch his legs. “I’m going to go grab lunch,” he said, tucking his tablet under his arm.

Steve lowered his book. “I can help,” he said, moving to get out of bed.

Tony smiled and turned around, moving over to the bed before Steve could wrestle the blankets off of his legs. “It’s fine, Steve,” he said, hoping to god his voice sounded soothing instead of irritating. “I’m just going to take the elevator down to pick it up, ok? You don’t need to come with me. I didn’t order that much.” He smoothed the blankets down, his hands skimming over the tops of Steve’s boney knees.

Steve’s face flushed. He looked away and crossed his arms over his chest, knocking his book off the side of the bed in the process. Tony stooped down to retrieve it, and handed it back.

“I’m not an invalid,” Steve said, taking the book and throwing it across the room.

Tony scowled. “Why the hell did you do _that_?”

“Because I can get it myself,” Steve said, stubbornly tugging at his blankets. “I’m supposed to walk around every couple of hours. I can pick up a goddamned book!”

“Alright,” Tony said. “Go get your book. I’ll go get lunch,”

“ _Fine_ ,” Steve said. His tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he struggled with the sheets. He managed to get one leg free and started working on freeing the next. “See? I can do it,”

“I know you can,” Tony sighed. He made his way down the hall and stepped into the elevator. “Take me to the front desk, Jarvis, and warn me if Captain Stubborn manages to hurt himself,”

The elevator doors closed.

 

 

With a bag of burgers and fries in one hand and a tray of milkshakes in the other, Tony made his way back into the Medical Wing. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Steve lying sprawled on the floor.

Shit!

“Steve?” Tony’s voice sounded strange in his own ears. He forced himself to remain calm and still.

Steve looked up at him from the floor. His face was pale and drenched in sweat, his cheeks flushed with humiliation. “I’m fine,” he grunted, trying to get up. The book was a few feet away, within reach of his fingertips, but somehow he hadn’t managed to grab it yet. He gritted his teeth and inched closer, dragging himself across the floor.

Tony bitterly pushed down his need to help. He wheeled the overtable between his chair and the side of the bed and set their lunch down before the grease could melt clean through the paper bag. He watched Steve out of the corner of his eye, knowing that if he helped now, he’d never hear the end of it. Still, it hurt to watch Steve dragging himself across the floor. Tony had hurt his back on more than one occasion and knew just how much it sucked to be unable to stand.

After a few more minutes of struggling, Steve finally, _blessedly_ , took a break. He flopped down onto the ground with a groan and lay there, prone and trembling with his face pressed up against the floor.

“So,” Tony said, clearing his throat. He pulled their burgers out of the paper bag one at a time. “I got us cheeseburgers, fries and milkshakes. I hope that’s ok,”

“It’s fine,” Steve mumbled into the floor.

“Yours is vanilla,” Tony said, ripping the paper casings off of their straws and pushing them into the lids. “I got chocolate.”

“That sounds great,” Steve grunted, trying to push himself upright again.

“I got us both large fries,” Tony said, pulling the fries out of the bag.

“That’s good,” Steve sighed. “Tony?”

“Yes dear?”

“Can you help me up please?” Steve asked.

“Sure,” Tony said, setting their fries on the overtable. He kneeled down and let Steve pull himself up onto his knees using his arm for leverage.

Steve shook as he tried to keep balanced; he sagged against Tony, his face contorted with pain, and took a moment to catch his breath with his cheek pressed against Tony’s chest. His shuddered breaths were terrifying, but Tony knew that weren’t dangerous. He wrapped his arm around Steve’s middle and gently hoisted him upright, slipping his other arm under Steve’s lower legs in case he toppled over. Steve’s face was flushed pink by the time Tony had him settled back in bed.

Steve turned away, adjusting the pillows behind him and then turned back, unable to sulk for too long when there was so much food sitting in front of him.

Tony chuckled to himself. Well, so far things were going the way he had expected – aside from the part where Steve had been crawling across the floor, of course. There was a hungry look in Steve’s eyes, and with burgers only a few feet away, it was probably taking all the restraint Steve had to keep him from lunging at them, back pain or no back pain.

Tony slid the overtable closer to Steve and dragged his chair across the floor until it was in a better position for them both. “Which do you want first?” he asked. “Burger, fries or milkshake?”

“Fries,” Steve replied automatically, licking his lips. “Definitely fries,”

“Alright then,” Tony said, handing the fries over. He picked up his own and started eating, enjoying the sudden blast of salt. Breakfast, a sombre affair filled with unflavored oatmeal and eggs, had been disappointing; this more than made up for it. Pepper was going to give him shit about eating all the excess salt if she found out about it. He was going to have to hide the evidence once they were done.

Steve shoveled fries into his mouth so fast, Tony was surprised he didn’t choke on them. When he realized he was being watched he blushed and slowed down, tackling one fry at a time as if _that_ would make Tony forget about how he had practically inhaled the first half of his box.

Tony grinned and continued to eat, dipping his fries lightly in ketchup. He had set some out for Steve, but that little cup had been completely ignored. Apparently there was a time to dip fries, and now as not that time.

Tony couldn’t bring himself to finish the last of his fries; he set the container down on the overtable, saving them for when Steve ran out.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Steve sighed in contentment. He licked the salt from his fingers, and crumpled the cardboard fry container up in his hand. He managed to toss it onto the overtable without any problems, but after that things turned difficult for him. He couldn’t _quite_ reach anything from where he was sitting, and unless he had help, he wasn’t going to get his hands on anything else. He sighed softly and made sad eyes at the burger, watching it from a distance as though condemned to stare at it forever.

Tony had a hard time not laughing out loud. He handed Steve the burger with a smile and pushed the milkshake closer as well so he wouldn’t have to move it later. Greasy fingers didn’t work so well on paper cups, after all, and he didn’t want to drop the thing in Steve’s lap. The guy bruised like a _peach_.

Steve grinned widely as he unwrapped his burger; he bit into it and let out a noise that sounded a little bit like it had come from Tony’s filthiest dreams. He went on eating, dragging his tongue over his lower lip. He didn’t seem to notice what the sound or visuals were doing to Tony.

Tony swallowed hard and looked down at his own burger. Well, _that_ wasn’t what he had expected when he had ordered lunch. He picked up his milkshake, sipping at it until his dirty mind started to behave itself again. He shifted his napkin onto his lap to cover up an erection that felt like it was made out of steel and hid his face behind his burger.

Blessedly, Steve continued to eat his burger without noticing something was wrong. He bit into the burger, letting loose a litany of moans that seemed to grow louder and louder with each new mouthful.

Tony was sweating profusely by the time Steve’s burger was gone. He looked around for something to drop onto his lap, but nothing on hand would keep his now _aching_ erection out of sight. He cursed the fact that his tablet was see-through and now useless. Why the hell had he thought that was a good idea again? It seemed really damn stupid now.

“Hey, have you ever seen When Harry Met Sally, by any chance?” Tony asked, clearing his throat.

Steve wiped his mouth primly on his napkin and set it down, turning his attention to his milkshake. “No. Is it good?”

Tony prayed that he wasn’t going to have to sit through more moaning. He wasn’t so sure his pants could handle it. It had been _years_ since he had been this hard.

“Uh, yeah. It’s alright,” Tony muttered, looking away. Maybe asking that question hadn’t been the best idea. If he was lucky, Steve would forget about the suggestion and never realize why he had said anything at all. He debated on blacklisting the movie in Jarvis’ servers and then decided against the move. Telling Steve no was as good as telling him to go watch it, after all.

Steve sipped at his milkshake, watching while Tony ate. He glanced down at Tony’s fries and then went back to staring at the overtable again, as though food would magically reappear on it.

Tony pushed the rest of his fries at Steve, hoping they would be a good enough distraction. “Here,”

Steve’s smile turned radiant. He cradled the fries gently in his hand and ate them one at a time, his eyes on Tony the entire time. “Thanks,”

Tony leaned back in his chair and finished the last few bites of his burger. He crumpled up the wrapper and put it into the paper bag, hiding it away once he was sure he wouldn’t be able to get away with using it as a crotch shield.

Well, at least the test wasn’t a failure. Steve’s mood had certainly improved.

Steve cocked his head to the side, carefully nibbling at his fries. “What?”

“Hm?” Tony let out a fake yawn and rolled his shoulders. He reached for his tablet, shrugging. “It’s nothing. Just thinking about a new project,”

“Anything I can help with?” Steve asked, tentatively. He wiped his hands clean on his napkin and tossed it into the bag.

Tony drummed his finger on his chin. “Well,” he said, “you could help me test the latest IOS on my Starkphone,”

Steve enthusiasm dimmed, but he remained smiling. “Sure,” he said. “Whatever you need me to do – I’m game,”

Tony grinned, glad for the excuse to flee. “Sure – let me go get it from my workshop. I could use the input,” he said, standing up. “You know how it is. If _I_ test it, it’ll probably look fine to me but work for no one else,”

“Does that happen often?” Steve asked.

“Oh yeah,” Tony said with a weary sigh. He grabbed the paper bag from the overtable and stuffed the rest of their garbage inside before it could roll off the table and end up on the floor. “Believe me, I’ve seen some pretty _crappy_ tech come out onto the market over the years and it’s just plain embarrassing if Quality Control doesn’t catch that stuff. That’s why everything that comes out of SI goes through me one way or another – I can’t let something with my name on it come out and be unusable,”

Steve laughed. “I guess I know what you mean. If Captain America was attached to something bad, it probably wouldn’t end well,”

“Probably not,” Tony agreed. He paused in the doorway, noting the way Steve’s shoulders had slumped. “I’ll be back in a minute, alright?”

“Alright,” Steve sighed. He leaned back against his pillows and closed his eyes. “No rush,”

 

 

 

Tony set Steve up with the prototype Starkphone and then scurried off to his workshop so he could start working on his _real_ project – care packages for Steve. He rubbed his hand together and took apart the skid that had been delivered the day before. Every bit of snack food had been child Steve approved and he hoped it would all pass muster. He took out a box cutter and went to work on the tape and plastic that had been used to make sure the boxes wouldn’t bounce around in transport. He had tipped generously to get everything here so quickly and he knew at once that the food here would be more useful than any bandage or salve. Everything here was familiar and safe – or as close to that as possible. Steve’s grumpiness could be kept at bay if he didn’t deviate from his plan.

It was good to just know he was on the right track. He felt _giddy_. He could do this – he could fix things!

He picked up the first of the many clear plastic boxes he had purchased for this occasion and started piling snacks inside. He didn’t want to bring too much at a time, so he made sure to put a little bit of everything. After all, Steve would probably get suspicious if an entire flat of Twinkies turned up in his bedside. _Stealth_ was key here. Too much too soon and Steve would likely refuse to eat anything at all. He was so caught up in what he was doing that he didn’t notice Bucky strolling across the workshop.

Bucky bent down and plucked a pack of raisins from Tony’s hand. “What are you doing?” he asked, cracking the little red box open.

Tony was so startled, he nearly toppled over backwards. He glared up at Bucky and pulled out another box of raisins, stuffing it in the next care package. “I’m _working_ ,” he muttered. “Go away and stop trying to make me have a heart attack.”

“ _No_ ,” Bucky said, squatting down on the floor beside Tony. He peeked into the boxes scattered around the workshop, his eyes growing wide. “Wow, you really bought a lot of crap,”

“It’s not _crap_ ,” Tony said, closing the lid on the care package before Bucky could spirit away anything. He had over ten containers packed now, and he planned on making at least ten more before he started sneaking them into Steve’s room in the medical wing; he did _not_ need Bucky Barnes eating his way through all of them before they were even finished.

“This stuff’s full of sugar and fat,” Bucky said, scrutinizing a label. “Don’t get me wrong – I’m applauding the effort here, I’m just surprised you took the time to track down a box of Twinkies so you could woo Steve,”

“I’m not _wooing_ him,” Tony grunted, fishing out a Mars bar. God, he hoped Bucky was just kidding. He didn’t want the bastard to know he really _was_ trying to win Steve over. He had had enough shovel talks to last him a lifetime, and he had a feeling Bucky’s would be far more terrifying than all of the others combined.

“You are _too_ wooing him,” Bucky snorted, tipping the box of raisins back so they could pour directly into his mouth. He chewed slowly, closing his eyes. “Shit, these are _good_.”

“Yeah?” Tony asked, reaching for a bag of M&Ms. “The M&M’s are better. I used to eat them all the time in University. I think I lived on them for most of my first year there.”

“That’s terrifying. Weren’t your parents worried you were going to rot all your teeth?” Bucky asked.

“Jarvis worried – my parents didn’t give a shit. They had better things to do,” Tony grunted. Sighing to himself he begrudgingly asked, “Do you think he’ll like this stuff?”

“I haven’t had most of it in a long time, but it looks alright to me,” Bucky said, peeling the raisin box apart until it was nothing more than a flat piece of cardboard. “I don’t think Steve’s had any for a while either. You’re probably safe.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Tony said, trying not to grin like an idiot. Success was such a fleeting thing – he wanted to hang on to this feeling for a while. He picked up another plastic box and started loading it up. “So you think it’ll work?”

“What? The care packages? Or the wooing?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow.

Tony sighed. “Both,”

“He likes food, and he likes you. It should work out,” Bucky shrugged. “But who knows? He’s _fickle_.”

“Fickle _bad_ , or fickle _good_?”

“I don’t know. He gets all _moody_ these days,” Bucky said, snatching a Mars bar from the box before Tony could grab it. He peeled it open and bit in with apparent relish, licking chocolate off of his lips in a way that looked almost lewd to Tony. “Haven’t had these in a while either. That’s freaky. They taste the same,”

“Yeah, they never changed the recipe, just the size,” Tony muttered, counting out raisin boxes while trying to get the frankly disturbing erotic image of Bucky licking chocolate off of his lips out of his head. He had more than enough raisins left; with a second skid coming in tomorrow, he would be able to keep Steve rolling in raisins for a few _months_.

“Huh,” Bucky said, taking another bite out of his Mars bar. “You know, I figured it would be different by now. Most of the other stuff tastes _weird_ ,”

“Yeah?”

“It must be pretty scary for him,” Bucky said, peeling the plastic wrapper down lower so he could get at the rest of the bar.

“Scary? For whom?” Tony asked, frowning.

“For Steve,” Bucky said, licking chocolate smears off of his fingers. “He woke up to this shit – I sort of lived through most of it. I don’t know. I guess it just hit him harder,”

“Oh,” Tony murmured, feeling lost. He hovered over the care package, looking down at it. Bucky was right. Steve was probably weirded out by all the changes that had happened in the world – food included.

Did all of this stuff taste the same as it had back in Steve’s day? Some of it had been made well after Steve had gone down in the ice, so that part wouldn’t really matter all that much, but the rest – could it be a disaster waiting to happen? The kid had enjoyed everything, but did he have the same tastes as his adult counterpart?

Oh great.

Leave it to Bucky to fuck things up.

Now he wasn’t so sure this would work. Shit. It would probably make Steve even _surlier_ if he found out the things he had once loved tasted like _cardboard_. What could he do to make it work?

“Oh, don’t worry so much, Tony. He’ll love it,” Bucky said, finishing the last of his chocolate bar. He crumpled the wrapper up and stuffed it into his pocket despite the fact that there was a perfectly good garbage can a few feet away. “Just don’t tell him you’ve got a skid of the stuff down here or he’ll freak out,”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Tony said, stuffing a handful of Twinkies into a box. “I’m not crazy. I know better than to shower him with gifts – not after what happened _last_ time,”

Bucky winced. “Yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “Did he ever talk to you about that, by the way?”

“No,” Tony said, sitting back on his heels. “And I didn’t try bringing it up. I figured he’d chew my head off and besides, I don’t know how to start that particular conversation without it turning into a full-blown scream-out,”

“Ah,” Bucky said, opening up a pack of Oreos. “Well,” he said between bites of cookie, “you could always try and bring it up _casually_ ,”

“How am I supposed to _casually_ tell him it felt like he was stomping on my heart when I watched him pick through that room?” Tony snapped, looking up sharply. “What am I supposed to do, huh? How do I start talking about _that_? Am I supposed to walk into his room and go,” he took in a deep breath, “ _Hi Steve – by the way, when you were busy ripping apart the stuff in your room, it kind of hurt my feelings?_ ”

“It’s as good a place to start as any,” Bucky snorted. “Sounds better than saying he’s a heartless asshole who didn’t think things through,”

“Who said that?” Tony groaned, turning back to the boxes. “I _never_ said that,”

“ _No one_ said that – it’s the truth,” Bucky said, stuffing the empty Oreo wrapper in his pocket. “Look, I can’t really give you advice here. I’m a jerk too. We don’t do emotions, and we sure as hell don’t know how to apologize,”

“Great. So why are you here again?” Tony muttered.

“How’s the arm coming along?” Bucky asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Tony groaned and banged his head against the plastic container in front of him. “I hate you. I hate you _so_ much,”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if anything weird is in here! : ) Thanks for reading and commenting!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony had never realized how bad he was at wooing people. Sure, he could flirt, but that didn't really mean much now...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! I went with the longer chapter, so it took more time to edit. : ) Let me know if you find anything weird!

Tony smuggled the first care package in under a blanket after dinner and left it sitting under his chair, out of sight. To keep himself from getting caught, because honestly it was a little hard to keep a straight face when he wanted to smile every damn second, he turned his attention to work. He kept his tablet on his lap and idly fiddled with blueprints, watching as Steve continued to play with the Starkphone he had been given. 

Steve seemed entertained by the phone; he hadn’t put it down once. He went through everything it had to offer, his gaze firmly on the small screen. Tony had figured Steve would get bored with it after a few minutes, but apparently being stuck in bed on a semi-permanent basis as a child had taught Steve to stay curious for as long as was humanly possible. 

Tony hooked into the phone’s OS with Jarvis’ help, sneaking a peek at Steve’s progress. He was impressed with what he saw. Steve had been a very busy little bee. He had already downloaded a bunch of apps and was busy playing a Captain America bubble popper game. That was just plain  _ adorable _ . He wondered how Steve had found the game. Had someone shown it to him? Or had he looked up his own name to see what would pop up? Tony chuckled, smiling down at his tablet.

Steve looked up from the phone, his eyes going wide. He laughed nervously and set the phone down on his knee. “Hey,” he said with a crooked grin, “when did you get here?”

Tony smirked. “I’ve been here for, oh, fourty minutes now,” he said, consulting his tablet. “I guess the phone’s not too hard to use, huh?”

“Nope,” Steve said. “It’s real neat.”

Tony chuckled. “I’ll have to put that on the box – Captain America thinks the new Starkphone is  _ neat _ ,”

Steve scowled. 

“What?” Tony said, faking innocence. “It’ll boost sales. That’ll make Pepper very happy,”

“Very funny,” Steve sighed. “Please don’t do that,”

“Don’t worry,” Tony said, plucking a bag of M&M’s from under the chair where he had stashed it. “I’m kidding. I wouldn’t slander your name like that,”

“Thank you,” Steve grumbled. He eyed the bag of M&M’s but didn’t say anything about their sudden appearance. 

“I’m willing to resort to bribery though,” Tony said, giving the bag a wiggle. He tossed it through the air, aiming it at Steve’s chest, not wanting to accidentally brain him. 

Steve managed to catch the bag; he looked extremely proud of himself as he tore it open, spilling M&M’s into his palm. “Oh! I’ve seen these before on the helicarrier. They’re not bad,” he said, biting into one. He flipped the package over and started scrutinizing the listed ingredients, his brow furrowing. “What’s in them?”

“Uh,” Tony looked up from his tablet. “ _Chocolate_?” he said, slowly, drawing out the word. “I’ve never really looked. I think there might be some nuts in there – well, there had better be considering they’re the peanut kind, oh – _shit_. Uh, you’re not allergic to peanuts, are you?” He had known every damn thing on the Steve’s allergy list, but now he was drawing a blank. Shit. Had he just made a horrible mistake? He sat up straighter, ready to lunge at Steve in case the guy had some kind of allergic reaction. Strictly speaking, he had never seen one happen before, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from lending a hand.

“No, it’s ok,” Steve said, still perusing the label. “I’m not allergic to peanuts – thankfully. Life would have been a hell of a lot harder for me if I was,”

“Alright – well that’s good,” Tony said, still not completely relieved. He eyed the bag of M&M’s as though they contained every last remaining trace of the black plague, aware that he had started sweating. He had been pretty thorough with the snacks when he had put in the care packages, but he hadn’t exactly read all the labels. Could there be some hidden danger lurking there that he hadn’t spotted? He resisted the urge to dive under his chair and instead turned back to his tablet, praying that his expression wouldn’t betray him. Jarvis wouldn’t have let him poison Steve accidentally – right?

“There’s a lot of stuff in these things,” Steve said, popping another M&M into his mouth.

“Do you label shop a lot?” Tony teased while casually researching every last thing he had bought Steve on his tablet. He had at least fifty tabs open, but that didn’t stop him from opening another three; it wasn’t even straining his tablet, so he supposed the panic was at least serving dual purposes. Now he knew his tablet was sales ready – even if he wasn’t ever going to ever put it out onto the market.

“I sort of started looking at them after someone offered me a chocolate bar made by Nestle,” Steve said with a shrug, pouring another handful of M&M’s into his hand. “It tasted weird, so used google to see what was in it.” He shuddered.

“I take it you found something _bad_ in the ingredients?”

“Well, it turns out they put a chemical in it these days – to thicken the stuff up, and it’s made out of Caster Oil,” Steve sighed. “It’s _disgusting_. I didn’t think I’d ever have to worry about chocolate before, but I guess that’s just another thing I’m going to have to get used to,”

“Let me guess,” Tony said, resting his elbow on his knee. He smiled softly. “You hated the taste, but you ate the entire chocolate bar,”

Steve groaned and hung his head. “Well I didn’t want to _waste_ it,”

Tony chuckled. “Tell you what,” he said. “You can always come to me with your nasty chocolate and I’ll eat it for you,”

Steve looked up from his hands and grinned. “Yeah? You’d do that for me?” he said. “That’s very kind of you,”

“Of course I will,” Tony said, grinning. “I’ll eat _all_ the stuff you don’t want.”

Oh – that didn’t sound good.

Tony ducked his head wishing he could turn back time. Oh _god_ , had he really just told Steve he would eat a bunch of nasty tasting food for him? What the hell was _wrong_ with him? He was supposed to be wooing Steve, not freaking him out.

Hm.

On the other hand, the blunder might not have been a total disaster. If things weren’t tasting as good as they used to, maybe he could do something about it. That would count as wooing, right? It wasn’t weird to want to help a friend enjoy food again. He typed away on his tablet, working one handed, his eyes locked on Steve. He had more than a few favors he could call in; if Steve wanted chocolate – old style chocolate – he could make it happen. The recipes, strictly speaking, weren’t out there for just _anyone_ to see, but money was very good at opening up doors to those kinds of buried treasures. He knew he could get his hands on some of them one way or another and as long as he didn’t actually sell anything, no one would ever know. It wasn’t like anyone other than Steve was going to see them, after all. He added ‘buy a new factory’ to his to-do-list and flipped back to the blueprints for Bucky’s new arm, wanting to get it out of the way as soon as possible.

“So,” Steve said, his fingers hovering over the bag of M&M’s. “What are you working on? Something interesting?”

Tony shrugged. “I’m just finishing up Bucky’s arm. It’s nothing exciting,” he said, frowning down at the design when he realized that he was now holding it upside down. He righted the image and looked up at Steve, expecting Steve to look happy about the admission.

Steve expression had turned gloomy. He smiled weakly at Tony. “That’s _great_ – I’m sure he’s going to love it,”

“You ok?” Tony asked. “You look a little pale,”

“I’m fine,” Steve said. He lifted the phone up again, toying with it. “I’m just tired, that’s all,”

“Ah, ok,” Tony said, scratching his head. “You had me worried there for a second,”

“It was just a back spasm,” Steve said, quickly. “It tenses up when I’m tired. It’s nothing a little sleep won’t take care of. Don’t worry about it,”

“Well, it is getting late,” Tony drawled. He checked the time on his tablet, trying to be inconspicuous about it. He didn’t want Steve to think he had a definitive bed-time, after all; the guy wasn’t a kid anymore, and it wasn’t his decision when Steve slept.

“The phone’s great – if I can work it, anyone can,” Steve said. He offered Tony the phone, holding it out. “Thanks. I’m glad I could help,”

“I’mglad you like it,” Tony said, with a grin. “You can keep that one – if you want,”

“Really? Don’t you need to run tests on it still?” Steve asked, staring at the phone still resting in the palm of his hand. “It seems expensive,”

“It is,” Tony said, not really paying attention. When he noticed the frown on Steve’s face he quickly started again, hoping to smooth things over. “But I was going to give them to all of the Avengers eventually, so it won’t be like you’re getting special treatment or anything. I’ll even give one to Bucky – I mean, I know he’s not an _Avenger_ or anything, but I figured it would be a good idea to keep an eye on him. We don’t want him getting into trouble, after all,”

“That’s true,” Steve said. He nodded and set the phone and the bag of M&M’s down on the overtable beside him and sprawled back onto his pillows, making himself comfortable. He tugged the blankets up around his chin and gave Tony a weary smile. “Don’t stay up too late, alright?”

“Sure,” Tony said, giving Steve a curt nod. “I’ll head out in a bit. Just let me finish this up before I forget what I’m doing.” He dawdled at Steve’s bedside, knowing full well that Steve expected him to leave.

But he couldn’t leave – at least not right away.

Steve’s soft, even breathing was music to Tony’s ears; it was a relief to see him pain-free. The past few nights had been hard on Steve, and he was glad Steve was finally able to drop off to sleep without the aid of painkillers.

Steve smiled in his sleep, and it was the sweetest thing Tony had seen since the kid had… _gone away_. He took a picture with his tablet so he could show Pepper later and stood up slowly, trying not to make too much noise. A good night’s sleep probably _would_ do Steve some good – god knows they hadn’t gotten enough good nights in a long time, not with the Skull still out there somewhere. He bent down and pulled the care package out from under his chair; he couldn’t leave it behind, not unless he wanted Steve to know about it. He crept out of the room with the box in his arms and his tablet lying on top of it. He looked back to make sure Steve was still asleep and shut the lights off with a soft smile.

 

 

Tony crept into the medical wing with the care package box held in front of him; he had gotten up at four a.m. in order to get ready to sneak down here to stash it, and he may have – _slightly_ – overslept… by three hours.

He skidded around the corner, praying that Steve was still asleep and nearly went head first into Sharon Carter’s chest. She was dressed in a plain navy blue trench coat and street clothes, and seemed far more relaxed than the last time he had seen her. He cleared his throat and stepped out of her way. “Sorry. Didn’t see you there,”

“Not a problem,” Sharon said, pulling a pair of thin black gloves out of her pocket. “I was just heading out.” She paused, taking in the sight of Tony, the clear plastic care package box and the tablet sitting on top of it. She cocked an eyebrow, her gloomy expression brightening. “You know,” she said, turning to look back through the doorway to where Steve’s room was, “You’re not so bad, Stark.” She patted Tony on the shoulder as she walked past him.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Tony grunted. “I don’t think they’d believe you,”

Sharon called the elevator and leaned up against the wall. She pulled on her gloves. “If I were you, I’d ditch the box,”

“Oh yeah?” Tony knew what she said was a good idea at this point, considering Steve was likely awake and would immediately see the damn thing the moment he came around the corner, but couldn’t bring himself to _immediately_ agree with her – at least not out loud, anyway. He shuffled in place, resting the edge of the plastic box against his hip.

“He’s not sleeping, and he’s going to be a total brat if you bring that in there. Even if you are planning on hiding it,” Sharon said. “I threatened to bring him back breakfast, but I think he’s going to appreciate it more if you’re the one who brings it to him – or him to it, for that matter,”

Tony frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me,” Sharon said. The elevator doors popped open and she stepped inside. She leaned out and braced herself against the doorframe a second later, sighing heavily. “ _Look_ – He was dating my aunt Peggy, you know that right?”

“I know,” Tony said. Why was she telling him this? It wasn’t like he needed to butt into Steve’s business – hell, it was probably better if he knew nothing at all. He kept his gaze locked on hers, refusing to look down at his feet. “Why are you telling me this?”

“It’s creepy,” Sharon said, nodding to the doorway.

“What is?” Tony asked, flabbergasted. “Steve?”

“Not _Steve_ ,” Sharon sighed and rolled her eyes. “Its _creepy_ that people think we’re _dating_. I mean, Steve’s a nice guy, and god knows I could use a nice guy in my life – who wouldn’t? – but I’m not interested in dating the guy my aunt spent every waking hour talking about. He’s a friend of the family – he’s off limits, and frankly, I wouldn’t want it any other way,”

“But I thought you two were together,” Tony sputtered, trying to process what he had just heard.

“We’re not _dating_ ,” Sharon grunted. “For _fuck’s sake_ , Stark – get over yourself and ask him out already. He’s pining away like an idiot. Let him know he doesn’t need to mope,”

“He’s _what_?” Tony asked, trying not to panic. “What do you mean he’s pining? For who? For me?”

Sharon glared at him. “Do I need to physically take your hand and put it in his? Because I thought you were supposed to be a super genius. Or were the rumors wrong?”

Tony flushed. “ _Hey_ ,”

Sharon chuckled and leaned back, letting the elevator doors close.

Tony scowled at the elevator; he thought about having Jarvis stop it in between floors out of spite, but before he could open his mouth to get the words out, he heard Steve’s voice from the Medical Wing.

“Tony? Is that you?”

Tony tensed and looked around, frantic to find a place to stash the care package box. He threw open the plastic container, and stuffed his pockets with junk food.

Natasha cleared her throat directly behind him.

Tony almost screamed. He froze, a mars bar held halfway to his pocket.

“What are you doing?” Natasha asked. “You look like I just caught you doing something naughty,”

“I’m not doing anything naughty,” Tony grumbled, stuffing the mars bar into his pocket. “Haven’t you ever seen a grown man stuff his pants with candy before?”

The comment startled a laugh out of Natasha. She put her hand in front of her mouth, the skin around her eyes crinkling with mirth. She looked far better than she had when he had seen her a few days ago; the burnt bits of her hair had been trimmed away, and her voice no longer sounded like someone had taken a cheese grater to her vocal cords.

Tony grinned at her. “Help me hide this? Pretty please?”” He batted his eyelashes at her and held out the box.

“Tony?” Steve called out again, a little louder this time. “Are you there?”

Natasha sighed and took the box from Tony before he could drop it.

“One sec, Steve,” Tony yelled, picking up his tablet. He nodded to the container in Natasha’s hands and lowered his voice. “Stash that somewhere for me,”

“I suppose I can do that,” Natasha said. She glanced down at the candy and smiled. “There’s a lot of chocolate here, Stark,”

“So?” Tony turned, heading towards the hallway.

“Be careful where you put it, or you’re going to melt it,”

 

 

Steve was sitting up in bed when Tony shuffled his way into the Medical Wing; he had a pair of grey sweat pants and a hoodie lying in his lap and seemed to have been in the process of changing into them before Tony had arrived. “Oh,” he said, his fingers tangled in the fabric of the hoodie. “You _are_ here,”

Tony shuffled closer, praying that the snacks in his pockets wouldn’t rustle and give him away. “Yep,” he said, hoping he sounded breezy instead of devious. “I dropped my tablet in the hallway – had to fish it out from under a desk,”

“Really?” Steve said, looking skeptical. “You know, you could just tell me the truth.”

“What truth?” Tony asked, smiling weakly.

“You were talking with Sharon,” Steve said with a sigh. “She’s worried – I get that, but I wish she wouldn’t try and pawn me off on other people, you know?” He picked up the hoodie and pulled it on, struggling to get his arms inside. “I’m not a baby,” he said, as his head neatly went into one of the arm holes. He adjusted the hoodie and got his arms in the right spots, reappearing as his head pushed through the neck hole. “That didn’t happen,”

“Sure,” Tony said. “I didn’t see anything, did you, Jarvis?”

“No, sir,” Jarvis said. “However, I would like to remind you that neither you, nor Captain Rogers have had breakfast.”

Steve scowled at Tony. “You didn’t eat either?”

“What?” Tony said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you with the Spanish Inquisition or something? It’s just _breakfast_ – I wasn’t conjuring up demons and worshiping Satan in my workshop, you know. I was _sleeping_. I don’t generally _eat_ while I’m sleeping,”

Steve’s scowl turned into a bemused smile. “Do I want to know what that means?”

“Probably not,” Tony said with a shrug. He made to sit down in the chair beside Steve’s bed, one likely left behind by Sharon, but turned away from it when he realized Steve wasn’t going to stay in bed. He watched as Steve struggled to get his bare, slender legs into the pair of sweatpants and wondered if he was expected to offer a hand or just sit by and watch; it looked like the task was a bit of a hassle but he wasn’t going to step in unless directed to do so.

Steve scowled at his sweatpants, gingerly rearranging them they twisted underneath his legs. He let out a huffed laugh and tugged his right leg through the cuff. “You know, I used to think this was the _easy_ part of my day,”

“Having a bad back is tough,” Tony agreed. He wandered over to the overtable and tugged it out of the way so he didn’t have to catch another eyeful of Steve’s snug white briefs. “I’ve put mine out before. It’s not as much of a party as they would lead you to believe,”

“Who told you it was a party?” Steve laughed, tugging his pants up around his hips.

“Oh, you know,” Tony said, flapping a hand in Steve’s direction, “the drug companies – Rhodey – all of them are bad influences,”

“Sure, Tony,” Steve chuckled. “If you say so,”

“I’m glad we both agree, then,” Tony said, drumming his fingers on the overtable. “So – Breakfast?”

“Alright,” Steve said. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up – or at least he _attempted_ to stand up. He wobbled, and went head first into Tony’s chest; he clung to Tony like a limpet when his legs threatened to give out.

Tony looked down at Steve, startled by the unexpected contact. Steve was warm, and while he was still a little sharp around the edges, the days spent in the Medical Wing had softened him up a bit. He wasn’t exactly healed, but he was sure getting there.

“Well _hello_ there, friend,” Tony said, grinning.

Steve grimaced and tried to straighten up. “Sorry. I didn’t think my legs would give me so much trouble,” he muttered, blushing. He slipped lower, his grip on Tony’s hips the only thing keeping him from hitting the floor. He wrapped himself tighter around Tony’s body. “Oh _jeeze_ ,”

Tony’s left pocket crinkled loudly.

Steve steadied himself and managed to keep from slipping lower.

Tony was glad he had decided to wear jeans that morning; he had a feeling his pants would have been around his ankles if he had been wearing his usual attire. He wrapped an arm around Steve’s middle and helped him up, trying to move as slowly as possible. The first crinkle had been bad enough; he didn’t need to announce that he had crap in his pockets with goddamned fanfare.

“What do you want to do for breakfast?” Steve asked, coughing into his arm. He managed to keep himself from going face first into the crotch of Tony’s jeans, and while he didn’t appear to be as embarrassed about what had happened now that he was upright, the back of his neck had gone suspiciously pink.

“I don’t know,” Tony said. “I’ve got a bunch of stuff upstairs.” He waited until Steve was more comfortable, and then took a step, only moving when Steve decided to move too.

“I could go for some eggs and toast,” Steve said. His brow furrowed in concentration as he turned his head towards the hallway. “I know they have that down here, but I’d rather not eat off another hospital tray,”

“I take it you want to eat somewhere else then?” Tony asked, physically turning them towards the hallway. He smiled when Steve’s cheek came to rest against his chest. “What do you say – my place, or yours?”

Steve shrugged, wrapping his arm tighter around Tony’s waist. He slipped his fingers through Tony’s belt loop and used it to hang on. “Either is fine, although I think my place is kind of empty.”

“Empty?” Tony cocked an eyebrow. “How can it be empty? Jarvis just did groceries,”

“He didn’t have to do that,” Steve grumbled. “I can do my own shopping.

“But why would you want to?” Tony asked. “Everyone else in the tower lets me order in groceries for them. It’s kind of my thing now.” They took another step together.

“Yeah, well, you don’t have Bucky staying with you, eating you out of house and home,” Steve grumbled. He stepped awkwardly and stumbled, crashing into Tony’s side; another angry crinkle burst forth from Tony’s pockets.

“Tony?” Steve asked, standing up.

“Yep?” Tony said, steadying Steve when he wobbled on their next step.

“Why is there a Twinkie sticking out of your pocket?”

“Uh, the vending machine in accounting broke,” Tony lied, “I swiped one for later.”

“Right,” Steve chuckled.

“It’s just a Twinkie, Steve,” Tony snorted. “Let it go,”

“Right,” Steve said. The bastard was outright _smirking_ now. He waited for Tony to call the elevator and then slumped against him, his cheek pressing against Tony’s chest. “And I bet that’s just a chocolate bar in your other pocket, right?”

“It better be,” Tony said with a crooked grin. “Or I’m going to be really embarrassed, huh?”

Steve snorted. “Well, it is pretty small, so I guess you’re right,”

Tony squinted down at Steve. Had he heard that right? Had Steve just made a _dick_ joke?

Steve patted Tony’s shoulder. “It’s ok, I’m not going to judge your chocolate bars,”

“Oh gee. Thanks,” Tony grumbled. When he had woken up this morning, he hadn’t expected to be caught like _this_. He had figured if he was caught, it would be with the box in hand, not with a bunch of candy stuffed in his _pockets_. Oh well. At least Steve hadn’t seen the actual care package box yet. He could still pull this off if he played his cards right. “Alight – fine. My pockets are stuffed with candy. Sue me,”

“Right,”

“Stop saying _right_ ,”

“Ok,”

“A vending machine broke,” Tony grumbled, sticking with the flimsy lie. “It’s not like I went out and _bought_ them just so I could stuff them in my pockets.” He hoped to _god_ Steve couldn’t see the bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face. He was such a _bad_ _liar_ today – what was going _on_? Usually he was so _good_ at it – well, no, he wasn’t _good_ at lying, he was just good at _misdirection_. Those were two very different things, and if Pepper ever found out, she was going to bury him under a mountain of paperwork so high, he would never see daylight again. He glanced up at the security cameras, hoping Jarvis would be able to read his mind and back him up.

“Sir? Do you require assistance?” Jarvis said.

Tony groaned inwardly and put on a smile that threatened to break his face. “Nope. I’m fabulous. You know what, take us up to the penthouse,” he said, helping Steve into the elevator. “I know I have breakfast stuff up there.”

Steve leaned against Tony’s side, hooking his other arm through the security bar. “So,” he said, clearing his throat. “I didn’t know you did building maintenance,”

“Sometimes,” Tony muttered. “People need to sleep, and I can’t exactly chain somebody to a desk to keep them here in case something stupid like a vending machine breaks down,”

“I guess that makes sense,” Steve said, smirking again.

Tony flicked Steve gently in the ear. “It makes _perfect_ sense. Don’t doubt me, you cretin,”

Steve laughed and flicked Tony in the shoulder; the blow wasn’t nearly hard enough to cause pain, but Tony still grinned and rubbed his shoulder anyway.

 

 

They got out at the penthouse; Tony wrapped his arm a little tighter around Steve’s waist to keep him from slipping on the marble floor. He knew how easily it could knock someone on their ass. The only reason he hadn’t replaced it with something less slippery was that doing so would require ripping the floor up, and he really didn’t want to have to air the place out all over again – that, and he secretly liked sliding across it when no one else was around. He suspected that Pepper knew about his little nighttime sliding trips, but since she hadn’t said anything, he hadn’t offered to show her how easy and fun it was.

He led Steve towards the kitchen. He was going to have to break out the eggs, toast and bacon as quickly as possible; both of their stomachs were rumbling loud enough to be heard clean across the room. He had expected to see Pepper or Rhodey sitting at the breakfast bar – he hadn’t expected to find Bucky sitting there in his pajamas, waiting for them.

Bucky lifted his flesh-and-blood arm and waved lethargically, his face still mashed against the countertop. “Hey! I was wondering when you were going to get back,”

Tony felt Steve stiffen against him. He scowled at Bucky, irritated by the interruption. The morning had been going so well – minus the almost-outing of his care packages, of course – and now it was going to be ruined. If Bucky was here it was for one thing – no. Make that two things. He was here for breakfast and for updates on the next version of his arm, and frankly, if he was asked about the new arm _one more time_ , Tony was going to crack an egg on his head.

“What are you doing up? I thought you’d still be asleep,” Tony grunted, wishing he could ignore Bucky entirely. Sadly, good manners dictated that he at least treat Bucky with a smidgeon of respect, so the usual plan of walking past him and pretending that he was a figment of his imagination was of no use today. He hated playing host; he was good at it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Bucky shrugged, letting his arm drop down onto the breakfast bar. “I thought about sleeping in, but then I decided I wanted breakfast and this was the easiest way to get it,”

“Uh huh,” Tony said. He helped Steve get settled on a stool and stalked into the kitchen, mourning the loss of Steve’s warmth against his side as it slowly faded. “You could have started _cooking_ , you know,” he said.

“I could have,” Bucky agreed, lifting his head up so he could rest his chin daintily on the top of his hand. “But then I would have had to actually _move_ , and I don’t feel like it – not after last night,”

Tony scowled over his shoulder. “It’s not _my fault_ you fell asleep like that – you’re the idiot who wouldn’t put the pillows back,”

“I refuse to believe that,” Bucky grumbled, rubbing a hand over his lower back. “I blame you for my ass hurting,”

Steve looked slowly from Bucky to Tony, his smile faltering. He opened and closed his mouth, as though about to speak and then leaned against the breakfast bar, lowering his gaze. Tony turned to answer, his eyes locked on Steve’s.

“Hey, are you –” Tony started to say, smiling at Steve.

“So how is your morning going, Steve?” Bucky interrupted, patting Steve on the shoulder. “Sharon said she was going to drop by, but I haven’t seen her yet,”

Tony bristled, but begrudgingly let the rude comment on his tongue die away along with his smile. He could always say something to Steve later. Bucky might be an ass but at least having him around had _moderately_ improved Steve’s mood. He took a moment to imagine throwing Bucky out of the tower on his ass in his pajamas. Ah yes. There was his smile again. He chuckled to himself and went back to watching Steve, wondering what Sharon had had to say to him.

“Sharon?” Steve shrugged Bucky’s arm off of his shoulder with a grimace. “She was here for a bit, yeah. Things went fine, I guess,”

“You _guess_?” Bucky frowned. “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing, really,” Steve said looking up. He swallowed hard and smiled at Bucky.

It wasn’t a pleasant smile to look at. Seeing it made Tony want to wrap his arms around Steve and never let go, but he couldn’t see a way of doing that without making things… awkward. He sighed aloud. Why was it so hard to keep Steve smiling? He was pretty sure they had been really hitting it off earlier – and then this! Bam! All his hard work had gone down the drain. He hadn’t seen fake smiles as awful as these in years – not since he had last seen his mother and father together at one of their family banquets.

“I’m just glad someone’s happy, you know?” Steve said, softly, jarring Tony from his thoughts.

Tony’s heart broke just looking at Steve; he looked so goddamned _earnest._

“ _Happy_?” Bucky scowled and threw his upper body on top of the breakfast bar. “No one gets to be happy until there’s breakfast in front of me. You’d better hurry it up, Tony,”

“You’re so damn _lazy_ ,” Tony grunted, turning his attention to the fridge. He pulled three cartons of eggs out, figuring that would be enough and set them down beside the stove before going back for the margarine, milk and cheese. He wasn’t the best cook in the world, but he could handle something simple, even without Rhodey and Pepper around to coach him. He pulled out a pan and got to work. Maybe Steve just needed to eat; with any luck, he would feel better after there was some food in him.

 

 

“I want to move back into my floor,” Steve mumbled. He was sitting on Tony’s couch, half-buried in a nest of pillows and couch cushions; he had been sitting there for the past fifteen minutes, lost in thought.

Bucky was long gone. He had fled shortly after breakfast, off to do whatever it was he _actually_ did during the day. Tony assumed it meant the bastard was off sparring with Natasha, breaking and entering and or mooching snacks from anyone who had something good – not necessarily in that order, of course.

Tony put the last plate into the dishwasher and shut it, setting the timer before he could forget about it. “I think we can manage that,” he said, dusting off his hands. “Your back and ribs are the only thing really bugging you now, right? I don’t think anyone’s going to tell you no,”

Steve nodded and sank a little further into the couch cushion behind him. He turned his gaze up to the ceiling, his expression turning somber.

Determined to bring Steve’s smile back, Tony dug around in his pockets and came up with a box of raisins. He cursed his luck; he had been hoping for one of the bags of M&M’s, but he wasn’t going to start rooting through his pockets now just to find one. Even he had to admit that would look a tad on the suspicious side. He tossed the box without thinking; it nailed Steve in the middle of the chest and rolled down into his lap.

Steve looked down at the box of raisins. “Why did you just throw raisins at me?”

“You looked hungry?” Tony hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. Shit – shit – shit – abort! Abort! Damn you raisins! Damn you to hell!

Steve smiled softly, but like the last of his smiles, it didn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t need to feed me all the time. I appreciate it, I really do, but you don’t need to waste time buttering up to me. I’m sure someone _else_ we know would appreciate it more,”

Tony flinched. Someone _else_ would appreciate it more? It felt like someone had stabbed him in the lung; suddenly the air seemed to be thick, too thick to breathe. He choked on the sensation, floundering in it.

“Tony?” Steve turned the box of raisins around, looking it over. “Can you just… can you take me to my floor? I kind of want to have some time alone,”

Tony swallowed around the lump in the back of his throat. “Sure,” he said, putting on _his_ best fake smile. If Steve wanted some alone time, then that was fine. It wasn’t like he had really expected a few snacks to fix everything between them, but it had been worth a shot. Steve was always worth a shot. He approached the couch and stood, waiting for Steve to stand up.

Steve pushed himself upright; he struggled with the pillows and then hesitated, the box of raisins held in hand. To Tony’s immense relief, he didn’t hand them back; instead, he stuffed them into his pocket. “Thank you,” he said, smiling weakly. “For the raisins I mean – and everything,”

“Sure, no problem,” Tony said, clearing his throat. He hesitated. Should he wrap his arm around Steve’s middle again? Was there a proper way to hold someone who had shot you down for the five hundredth time?

Steve looked up before stepping closer, tucking himself under Tony’s arm. “This sucks,” he said with a sigh. “I thought this kind of thing wouldn’t happen anymore, you know?”

Tony guided Steve towards the elevator, watching each step. Steve’s was so small now, so fragile; it was strange to be worried about hurting someone’s feet, of all things. He sighed heavily, knowing that even if he had been rejected, there was nothing he could do to kill the longing for Steve. That would be there forever. “Yeah,” he said, softly. “I used to be scrawny too, when I was younger. It was a relief to grow out of it – I don’t know what I would do if I was in your place. Getting thrown back into that would be tough,”

Steve leaned heavily against Tony’s chest, leaving his cheek pressed there as the elevator doors opened. “I didn’t know that,”

Tony shrugged, moving further into the elevator. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said. “You should have seen my hair back then. Oh god – _no_. Do me a favor and don’t look for pictures of that. It was an awful time and I don’t think I’ll ever be forgiven for that haircut.”

The elevator started moving.

Tony didn’t have to press any buttons; Jarvis was far too well trained for that. He stood still, mindful of Steve’s presence at his side, filling away the feeling for future reference. He doubted Steve would let him get this close again, not after he had healed completely. It was probably only a begrudged closeness, but he would take whatever he could get.

They stepped out onto Steve’s floor.

“Where do you want me to leave you?” Tony asked.

“The couch is fine,” Steve said. “I’ll get Bucky to help me to bed later – if I need the help,”

Tony guided Steve over to the couch and waited patiently while Steve made himself comfortable. He hesitated, reluctant to leave Steve alone without something to keep him warm. Every floor was temperature controlled, but that didn’t mean Steve couldn’t feel cold while sitting on the couch. He found a blanket sitting on the back of a recliner and pulled it free, shaking it out. He dropped it onto Steve’s lap, barely resisting the urge to smooth it down over Steve’s legs. “Are you sure you want to be alone?”

Steve faltered and then nodded slowly. “Yeah – I think I need time to think.” He sighed and pulled the blanket higher against his chest. “With the Skull still out there, I guess I just don’t know what to do with myself,”

“Jarvis is still looking for him – we’ll get him, Steve. I promise – eventually, we’re going to catch him with his pants down. Hydra’s not going to stay hidden forever.”

“I know,” Steve said. “I trust you guys. I know you’ll do whatever it takes to hunt him down.” He huddled under the blanket, drawing his feet up so they were covered. “Let me know as soon as you find anything, alright? I want to be there when you bring the son of a bitch in,”

“Will do,” Tony said, giving Steve a mock salute.

“Thanks,”

Tony turned on his heels, recognizing the dismissal even if it wasn’t said out loud.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was soft, as though he didn’t want to be heard.

Tony called the elevator and turned back to Steve. “Yep?”

“I really mean it – thank you. You’ve been really great about everything,” Steve said. “I’m glad you and Bucky are getting along so well. It’s nice to see him happy,”

“Yeah, well,” Tony said. “It’s not that big of a deal. He’s nice, I guess. In an irritating sort of way,”

Steve chuckled. “He’s got a knack for getting peoples dander up, that’s for sure.”

“I’m sure he’d say the same about you,” Tony snorted. “Let me know when you want company again, alright? We can watch bad movies, or get dinner – I’m always up for a movie marathon.” He winked at Steve and stepped inside the elevator when it arrived; he waited until the doors had closed before slumping against the wall with a groan. Well, at least he hadn’t made things worse. The ball was in Steve’s court now; there was nothing he could do but wait.

When the doors opened again, he found himself at his workshop. God, he hated _waiting_! He hadn’t even been in the elevator all that long, and already he was ready to tear his hair out.

Well, he was here in his workshop now. It was always better to work when he felt like this; he had wasted too much time this week as it was. He had so many projects to catch up on for SI alone, and he knew he couldn’t put them off any longer – not if he expected to keep his balls safe from the board’s wrath.

“Thanks, Jarvis,” Tony said. “You always know just what to do. From now on, you’re my favourite,”

“Thank you, sir,” Jarvis said. “I am honored.”

“You should be,” Tony sighed, running his hand over his face. “You just beat out a whole bunch of people.”

“Noted, sir. In case you were wondering, my scans for the Skull are twenty percent finished. I have already ruled out most of Hydra’s known bases,”

Tony stalked over to his workstation and let out a loud groan when he saw the care package he had carried up to Steve’s room that morning; Natasha had brought it back after all, although on closer inspection she had also helped herself to some of the mars bars. He looked around at the pile of care packages and the new skid of snacks sitting beside them, waiting for disassembly. What was he supposed to do with all of this food? He had thought he would get at least a few days out of the care packages, but he hadn’t even managed _one_.

“God, I am so _bad_ at this,” Tony said, throwing himself down into a rolling chair. He wheeled it closer to his workstation and called up the scans for the Skull, throwing them up so he could watch as they progressed. He popped the lid off the care package and pulled out a Twinkie, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth. He stuffed it into his mouth and chewed, hating that it still tasted good. At least he had something to eat while he worked. Now he didn’t even have to leave his workshop.

 

 

By the time Jarvis’ scan hit ninety percent, Tony had been awake for almost three days straight. Normally it wouldn’t have been a problem; he was used to working days at a time, and by the end of the first thirty hours he had finished everything he had needed for both SI and the Avengers. After that, though, things had gone a little _differently_.

Normally when he was working he would consume his weight in smoothies and coffee. This time, however, he hadn’t bothered with the veggies and fruit; he had all those care packages to keep him company, and he had put them to good use. He hadn’t touched anything healthy since breakfast all those days ago and it was starting to take its toll.

He was exhausted, but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep. He had tried, but he hadn’t been able to drop off; he had stared up at the ceiling and given up shortly after. So instead of trying and failing to sleep, he had gone back to work, hoping that would help drain the last of his energy. At the moment he was elbow-deep in his Viper, but he hadn’t really done anything aside from checking the oil ten times over. He hadn’t been able to work properly on _anything_ new once his duties for SI and the Avengers had been taken care of. His brain felt like it was moving at a snail’s pace.

“Sir? Might I suggest going up to the penthouse? I can just as easily tell you the results of the scan up there,” Jarvis said, sounding worried. The AI had been ordered to lock everyone out of the workshop twelve hours after Tony’s dismissal from Steve’s floor, and he hadn’t let _anyone_ in, even if he had wanted to; they had been running in total blackout mode ever since, and while Tony had never asked who had dropped by to visit, he had found out anyway when Jarvis had tried to tempt him upstairs the first time. Despite the list of well-wishers, Tony hadn’t opened the door, not even after Pepper had threatened to break it down.

“I’m fine, Jarvis,” Tony said, checking the oil for the eleventh time. He gave his head a shake, trying to clear the spots from his eyes. He had looked into the damned lights again. Why did he keep doing that? He looked for the light again and temporarily blinded himself a third time. He had checked the oil already, hadn’t he? He could have sworn he had.

Dummy meeped and wheeled closer, bumping against Tony’s foot, demanding attention.

“What?” Tony growled.

Dummy meeped again, grasping at Tony’s leg with his claw.

“I don’t understand – why you are grabbing me? Am I on fire?” Tony asked. He frowned and looked around. “I’m not on fire, right?” He checked himself over and was satisfied, if not a little disgusted with what he found. He could use a few thousand showers and he was covered with grease, but he _definitely_ wasn’t on fire. He checked again just to make sure, because you never knew. Sometimes that shit just happened.

“Sir?” Jarvis sighed. “I believe it is time you went to sleep. You have been standing there for almost twenty minutes talking to yourself about fire.”

Tony frowned. Had it really been twenty minutes already? He looked down at the oil dipstick still in his hand and checked it, putting it back into the right slot. He sighed and closed the hood of the Viper, letting it click shut. Yes, it was time for a break alright. If he couldn’t even check the oil and remember if he had done it or not, he probably needed one.

“Alright, alright. I’m going upstairs,” he grunted.

Dummy cooed at him and tugged on his pant leg again.

“You are so pushy! _Fine_ – lead me to the elevator, you useless bot. Go – move it!” Tony slumped against Dummy’s arm and allowed himself to be half-dragged, half-walked over to the door. What little energy he had had was now almost completely spent. He remained slumped on top of Dummy until the elevator came, and then stood up and staggered away, leaving behind greasy streak on Dummy’s outer casing.

 

When the elevator arrived at the penthouse, Tony found Pepper, Rhodey and Bucky waiting for him. They stepped back when he stepped out, looking appalled by the mere sight of him. Tony tried not to feel offended by their behavior; he had smelled himself, after all. He knew how bad it was.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Rhodey said, looking Tony over. He wrinkled his nose and fanned the air on front of his face. “What the fuck were you _doing_ down there?”

“I was _working_ ,” Tony grumbled, trying to stand up straight. When his body refused to cooperate, he grumbled and staggered off towards the couch, wondering why the room had started to gently spin. Oh right. He knew he had forgotten something. He had come up here for a reason – _sleep_! Yep. Sleep! He resisted the urge to punch the air and grin.

Rhodey grabbed Tony by the shoulder just as he reached the couch and turned him towards the bathroom. “Nope. No sitting on the furniture when you stink. You know the rules,”

“I do not _stink_ ,” Tony retorted. He lifted up his arm and smelled his armpit, much to the chagrin of Pepper and Bucky. “Wait,” he said, giving himself another sniff. “Nope. You’re right. I stink,”

“Stop _sniffing_ yourself and go shower,” Pepper grunted pointing to the bathroom.

“Fine,” Tony said shrugging Rhodey’s hands off of his shoulders. He stumbled towards the bathroom and then realized that the couch wasn’t the only place he could lie down; he had a bed he could use. He started to veer to the left so he could go into his bedroom instead, but was caught.

“Tony, _no_ ,” Rhodey said, steering Tony back towards the bathroom. “You’re not stinking up your bedroom either,”

“ _But_ ,” Tony grunted, weakly struggling to break free. “I want to _sleep_ ,”

“You need a shower. Seriously – you are _covered_ in grease,” Rhodey sighed. “Shower, and when you’re finished you can sleep – or better yet, eat and then sleep.”

“Eat?” Tony snorted. “I’ve _been_ eating,”

“You’ve been eating candy – you need to eat _food_ , Tony,” Rhodey growled, nudging Tony towards the bathroom door again. “So come on – humor us. Go take a shower and when you come back there will be real food waiting for you,”

“Real food does sound good,” Tony admitted, stepping into the bathroom. He managed to close the door and peel his clothing off before he realized that he was alone again. He blinked at the shower, surprised to see that it was already turned on. “Did you do that Jarvis?” he asked. He looked down at his hand and found that he was still holding one of his socks; he threw it onto the pile of discarded clothing he found on the floor.

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis said. “I was instructed to make sure you didn’t scald yourself,”

“Ah,” Tony said, yawning into his arm. He stumbled into the shower and leaned up against the wall, letting the warm spray trickle down his skin. Well this was nice. He closed his eyes for a moment, idly scrubbing at his skin with a bar of soap. The air here smelled like _apples_. He grinned to himself. Steve would love it in here – apples were great.

“Sir?” Jarvis said with a sigh.

“Yep?” Tony mumbled, his eyes still closed.

“May I ask why you are sitting on the floor?”

Tony slowly opened his eyes. He looked down and saw that Jarvis was right; he _was_ sitting on the floor, although he had no idea how he had gotten there. He felt along the back of his head to make sure he hadn’t whacked himself on the way down. He couldn’t feel any bumps, and he didn’t find any blood on his fingers so he obviously hadn’t fallen. “Did I slide down the wall?” he asked, perplexed. Wouldn’t he have heard that? Wet skin on tile made a very distinctive squealing sound.

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis said. “At the time I was unconcerned as you weren’t in any immediate danger, however, it appeared you were falling asleep in the shower. My apologies. I should have woken you sooner.”

“Right,” Tony yawned. “Well don’t worry about it. I’m not going to drown – I’m awake, I swear,”

“Please see that you remain that way,” Jarvis sighed. “I believe Colonel Rhodes and Ms. Potts would be very upset if you hurt yourself,”

“Ok, fine. Guilt trip me,” Tony muttered. “You’re not my favourite anymore.”

“I did apologize,”

“Alright. Well, you can make it up to me. You can return to your place of honor by telling me how the scan’s going,” Tony said, standing up. He let the spray wash the soap off of his arms and reached for the shampoo, scrubbing it into his hair as roughly as he could to try and get the worst of the sweat and grease off of his skin.

“The scan is currently at ninety nine percent and I am expecting it to conclude within the next ten minutes,” Jarvis said. “May I make a suggestion, sir?”

“Sure, why not?” Tony said, dunking his head under the soft spray. As usual, it took what felt like forever to wash the suds out of his hair; he dozed while the water did its work, but didn’t allow himself to fall asleep this time.

“You may want to use the soap again, sir,” Jarvis said. “You appear to have grease on your thighs,”

Tony scowled down at his legs. Yep. Jarvis was right. How the hell had he managed to get grease on his _thighs_? He had been wearing jeans for crying out loud! He grabbed the soap and lathered up his hands, tackling the grease before he could forget about it. The last thing he wanted was grease smeared all over his Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Sir?”

“Yep?” Tony scrubbed at his thighs again, keenly aware of how pink and raw they were; it hurt a little but the grease was at least gone.

“The scan has completed,” Jarvis said. “I have located Hydra’s nearest encampment,”

Tony nearly went face first into the tiled wall beside him. He grinned madly, and threw himself out of the shower; the water shut off behind him, still under Jarvis’ control.

They finally had good news!

Hydra was theirs for the taking!

Tony slid across the bathroom floor and yanked open the door, flying out into the living room.

“We found Hydra!” He crowed in delight. “We got the bastards!”

Rhodey, Pepper and Bucky stared at Tony.

“Uh,” Bucky said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s _nice_ , but couldn’t that have waited until you had some clothes on?”

Clothes? Tony scowled and looked down. He was getting tired of constantly having to look down. “Oh. Yeah. Should probably do that,” he mumbled. Oh well. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen him naked before.

“You can do that _now_ , if you want,” Pepper said, shooting Tony an amused smile. “You’re dripping on the floor,”

“I am?” Tony squinted down at the floor. “Oh. Right. Ok,” he said, scratching his head. He frowned when his hand came back wet. “What was I doing again?”

“You were going to get clothing, and then you were going to eat and then sleep,” Rhodey said, standing up. He took Tony by the shoulders and directed him back into the bathroom. “Jarvis can wait to tell us what’s going on with Hydra,”

“I’m afraid I can’t, Colonel,” Jarvis said. “If my calculations are correct, Hydra will be leaving their current location within the next three hours. If you do not leave now, there is a high probability that you will not locate them again for quite some time,”

Rhodey groaned. “Alright, alright,” he said, letting Tony go. He zipped into the bathroom and grabbed the biggest towel he could find, winding it around Tony’s middle. “Ok – inform the other Avengers and SHIELD. We need to move now,”

“I took the liberty of information Director Fury two minutes ago,” Jarvis said. “I believe there is a problem.”

“Do you have a message?” Rhodey asked.

“I’m paraphrasing, as what the Director said is not repeatable in pleasant company. SHIELD is unable to send personnel, as they are still trying to repair the damage infrastructure to their headquarters. Director Fury is demanding that every Avenger be made ready to leave in twenty minutes.”

“Well that’s just _great_ ,” Rhodey muttered. “I mean, I wanted to go anyways, but it would have been nice to have a bit more notice,”

Bucky eyed Tony. “We’re leaving Tony behind, right? He can’t fight like that,”

“No way,” Tony said, nearly dropping his towel. “I’m coming with! You’re _not_ leaving me behind,”

“Tony, no,” Pepper said, shaking her head. “ _No_! You’re not going anywhere! You’re so out of it you can barely walk and think at the same time. You need to stay here and sleep,”

“You can’t just _bench_ me,” Tony growled. “I’ll be fine – I can sleep on the way there,”

“Look,” Rhodey said, grabbing for Tony’s towel. He used it to tug Tony towards the master bedroom. “You need to dry off and get dressed still, remember? You can come with us if you promise to have Jarvis pilot the suit and keep out of the way, alright?”

“Alright,” Tony said, stumbling into his bedroom.

Bucky locked eyes with Pepper. “Ten bucks says he falls asleep on the carpet – buck naked,”

Pepper smiled. “I don’t know you were such a bad gambler,”

“Oh?”

“I’d just be taking your money,” Pepper said, smiling sweetly. “Twenty says he gets his socks on but nothing else,”

“You’re on,” Bucky said with a grin.

 

 

Tony was groggy when they landed, but his mind cleared quickly. He was in the suit, although he couldn’t _quite_ remember how he had gotten there. He assumed that Rhodey and or Bucky had been the ones who had stuffed him into it. He could remember bits and pieces of the flight, thankfully, so he wasn’t too worried about what was going on. It had taken them an hour to get to Hydra’s current hidey-hole, so he hadn’t been drifting in and out for too long. For some reason he could distinctly remember Bucky handing Pepper a twenty. He wondered what that was about.

Steve was sitting sullenly beside him in the back of the Quinjet. He was dressed in a black flak jacket – one that miraculously fit him – and was wrapped from head to foot in protective gear; his boots were thick and heavy, his gloves made of sturdy, supple leather. He had a utility belt around his waist that was filled with supplies, and there was a comm in his ear, tuned in to the Avenger’s channel. Despite all of that and his apparent readiness for battle, he had been left behind with Tony, and he clearly didn’t appreciate it.

Whenever Tony turned around to check on him, he found Steve staring silently ahead with his arms crossed over his chest. He was pretty sure he been involved with the decision to bench them in some way, shape or form, but without proof, he had no way of knowing what he had done or how bad a disaster it had been. He could have asked Jarvis for help, but with Steve sitting so close, he didn’t want to risk making things worse. With his luck, he would end up asking Jarvis in the wrong comm channel and get himself into even more trouble.

The other Avengers were out ripping Hydra’s base apart, both figuratively and literally. Rhodey, Pepper and Bucky had gone off together to terrorize the Hydra’s perimeter guards; Thor and the Hulk were on the other side of the compound, causing chaos of their own. Natasha and Clint had been placed on intelligence gathering duty and were trying to stay out of the line of fire. Tony tried not to think about how he and Steve were on guard duty while they were all busy beating the shit out the Skull’s minions; it was probably for the best, even if it did hurt his ego. He wished he had been thinking clearly earlier in the evening. He could have stayed in the tower and slept his work-bender off, but now it was too late to do anything other than sit upright and watch the security cameras for attackers. At least this way the Quinjet wouldn’t get hijacked, he mused bitterly.

“Stark?” Natasha’s voice crackled over the comms.

Tony sighed and leaned back against the seat. He was glad he had the helmet on, because he didn’t want Steve to hear how dead he sounded. “ _Tech Support_. This is Tony speaking – how may I help you?”

“I’m assuming that means you’re awake,” Natasha said dryly.

“For now,” Tony grunted. “What can I do for you Agent Romanoff?”

“We ran into some complications,”

“Oh?” Tony perked up. “What do you need?”

“We need you,”

“Me?”

“Yes, Stark. _You_ ,” Natasha said. “I’d have gotten Jarvis do the work for us, but the system is screwed up and the connections are shielded somehow. I need you to come down here and draw the information out manually,”

“I thought you said you could handle it?” Tony grumbled, standing up. “I _distinctly_ remember you telling me you would be fine,”

“I know I did,” Natasha sighed. “We were doing fine until we got caught by security.”

“You got _caught_?” Tony peered out the window beside him, scowling at the base. There wasn’t any activity nearby from what he could see, aside from the Hulk and Thor tearing apart a water tower to the left of them, but he didn’t doubt there was a flurry of activity inside. There were at least a few hundred people working in the Skull’s compound – and that didn’t count the drones that might very well be there too.

“Judging by the fact that the building is still standing, you weren’t trapped for long,” Tony sighed.

“We weren’t trapped at all,” Natasha huffed. “One of the guards – one that _Clint_ was supposed to take out, I might add – managed to trigger an alarm before she could be taken down. Needless to say, we’ve been hip deep in Hydra scum ever since,”

Tony stilled, his hand raised to open the Quinjet’s side hatch. “How many of them do you think I’m going to run into?” He could probably handle a few attackers, so long as there weren’t too many of them around. He didn’t even want to _think_ about taking on the Red Skull but from what little intel he had scrounged, the Skull wasn’t likely to appear any time soon.

“I’m not sure how many you’ll run into,” Natasha said. She grunted and then chuckled. Something thudded through the comms. “Alright, well take that hypothetical number and minus one from it,”

Tony snorted. “Gee, _thanks_ ,”

“You’re welcome. Now get your butt down here. We don’t know how long we have left until Hydra gets its act together and I don’t want to lose anything if AIM decides to help out,”

Tony threw open the hatch and started down the flight steps. He heard the sound of footsteps behind him and sighed; spinning around, he found himself face to face with an irate looking Steve. _Damn_. He had forgotten Steve had his comm in. Well, there was no hiding anything from him now, and there would be no sneaking out of the Quinjet, either – not when Steve was standing right in front of him. “Steve,” he said. “What are you doing?”

Even standing two steps above Tony, Steve was only eye to eye with him. He went up painfully on the tips of his toes, as though to make himself taller, glaring at Tony. “You’re not leaving me here while you run off to help Natasha,”

“You’re not exactly healed yet,” Tony protested. “You can barely walk without help,”

“I’m fine,” Steve growled. “I was _fine_ two days ago, in case you were wondering,”

Tony scowled. “Yes, thank you. I _was_ wondering,”

“You vanished for _three days_ , Tony,” Steve hissed. “You can’t just do something like that,”

“I was busy working on Bucky’s goddamned arm,” Tony snapped. He calmed himself, and kept an eye on the timer in the corner of the helmet’s HUD. “Look, I get it – you want to help out and that’s great, but it’s not _safe_ out here,”

“Tony,” Steve said, pursing his lips, “I have been in _war zones_. I do not need to be carried around on your shoulders like a toddler. I can handle myself,”

“Steve,” Tony said, his shoulders slumping, “You don’t _understand_ ,”

“I _do_ understand – Sharon and Bucky told you to keep me out of the way, but I don’t need you to watch over me. I can handle _myself_ ,” Steve insisted. “I don’t know why people think I’m so goddamned breakable – I’ve been getting beat up in alleyways since I was _nine_ , Tony, _nine_! I’m not afraid of a little pain!”

Oh yeah, Tony thought, Steve had _handled_ himself fabulously the last time he had been out on the field – it was just that pesky chair’s fault! If it hadn’t gotten in the way, things would have been just fine! He wondered morosely what Steve would break next. An arm? A leg? His _spine_? He knew saying something outright wouldn’t do him any good. The determined look on Steve’s face was one he was well used to by now and it wasn’t an expression that disappeared easily. Well, he couldn’t just leave Steve here, and while he didn’t want him to come there was nothing he could do. There was no way he was going to risk knocking Steve out – not in the suit – and with Steve’s combat experience, he would probably take Tony down in a heartbeat if he got out of the suit to try it the gentler way.

“Fine,” Tony said. “You can come with me, but be warned. I haven’t really had any sleep for the past few days, so I’m not at the top of my game,”

“What?” Steve said, his eyes widening. “You didn’t – then why are you _here_?”

“I’m here because I need to be here,” Tony said, grimly. He closed the faceplate and started trudging towards the base. “Jarvis?” he said into the comms once he was absolutely sure Steve couldn’t hear him, “If I pass out, I need you to do whatever it takes to keep Steve safe. I don’t care what you have to do – if you need to blow the suit and wipe me out to save him, do it. He needs to be safe no matter what,”

“ _Sir_ ,”

“No buts, Jarvis,” Tony said through gritted teeth. “If he gets hurt, it’s on me. If you have to make the choice between the two of us, choose him.”

 

 

The rooms they moved through were empty, filled with nothing but abandoned folding chairs. There were papers here and there, but none of the files they found were useful; most of it was stuff someone had printed out and taken from the internet – garbage, in other words. Tony didn’t bother gathering physical evidence; he had the suit’s cameras to do that for him. Steve, on the other hand, stopped to pick up a few sheets every few feet, stuffing them into one of his flak jacket’s many pockets.

After a while Steve stopped picking things up. Everything was too spread out, and they would have plenty of time to collect it once the battle was won. Hell, they could always let SHIELD do the cleanup.

They moved on, slinking through the halls, evading Hydra’s goons. Tony tried not to move too far too fast; he refused to make Steve jog, even if Steve was the one telling _him_ to speed things up.

They tracked Natasha and Clint down to a computer lab that had likely been the center of operations for the base; from there, Tony got to work breaching the system. The equipment here was a few years old, but it was in good condition. If he had to guess, this was likely Hydra’s last hiding spots – one they had only recently built up. He plunked away at the keyboard, winding his way through their pathetic security system. Jarvis was in the system too, running interference, diagnostics and collecting information. There was nothing the AI could do if they were both kicked out of the system at the same time, so Tony did what he had to do. He kept the firewalls busy, editing the viruses he was using every time the system tried to boot them. It was child’s play; he could have done it in his sleep. In fact, he wasn’t so sure he _wasn’t_ doing it in his sleep.

Steve paced the room, keeping watch on the front door even though Clint was already doing the same thing. The sounds of his _constant_ footsteps was driving Tony up the wall. He kept catching Steve’s shadow out of the corner of his eye. He put up with it if only to keep Steve in the room and out of danger.

“Are you done yet?” Natasha asked, scowling at the door. “We’re going to be getting company in a few minutes, if Clint’s intel is right, and I’d really rather be somewhere else.”

“I’m working on it,” Tony said tersely, grinding his teeth as Steve began yet another lap around the room. He staved off the firewall one last time and smirked as Jarvis stripped the last of the data from the database. “Alright – we’re good to go.”

“Excellent job,” Clint said, saluting Tony. “Remind me never to make you angry,”

“Oh please,” Tony snorted. “You don’t have anything on your computer I haven’t already seen a thousand times over,”

“Fair enough,” Clint chuckled.

“What do the files say?” Steve asked, ignoring their banter entirely. “Do they have a location for the Skull?”

“I don’t know, Steve. I didn’t have time to read anything,” Tony grunted. He yawned loudly into the comms and stood up. He pushed the keyboard away, letting the firewall kick in; he didn’t like that they were leaving the tech the way it was, so he had left Hydra a little gift in exchange for their hospitality. _That_ particular virus would be sneaking its way through their tech for days, and if they were lucky it would lead them right to the Skull’s doorstep.

“Are you alright?” Steve asked, moving closer.

“I’m fine,” Tony sighed. “I’m just tired. I’m running on no sleep, remember?”

Steve scowled. “ _Tony_ ,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, turning to face Natasha. “I shouldn’t be here. I know that. Lead the way, Nat. I don’t think me taking point would be a very good idea right now – not unless you want me to step on Steve or walk into Hawkeye,”

“Alright,” Natasha said, smiling softly. “Stay behind Tony, Cap. Clint, you take the rear.” She gave Steve a wink and pulled out her gun, opening up the door. She waved them into the hallway and led them further into the building.

Their unorthodox route worked well for them – at least until they rounded the corner and found themselves within inches of a Hydra squadron of at least fifteen men and women. Normally it wouldn’t have been an issue. On a good day, Natasha and Clint could take out most of that number without any problems, but today the goons weren’t targeting them – they were targeting _Steve_.

Tony threw himself in the way and took the brunt of the attack; he could hear each and every plink as bullets ricocheted off the armor, hitting the ground in flattened lumps. He was glad he had reinforced the armor’s outer plating the last time he had done upgrades to it. Jarvis’ quick scans told him that they were using dumdums and armor piercing rounds on him – both highly illegal and deadly. Clearly Hydra wasn’t intending to _casually_ wound Steve. This time, they wanted him down for the count.

Tony fired up the repulsors in his palms and took down three men at once, all the while watching Natasha, Clint and Steve get to cover behind the wall they had only recently passed. He knew the plaster wouldn’t hold up under fire, so he kept moving, letting Jarvis handle the cameras behind him so he wouldn’t miss anyone trying to sneak up on them. He took down another three goons with clean hits and then charged the rest of the now ragged band down the hallway, trying to attract their attention. In such a tight space, it was hard for anyone to get a shot off unless it was aimed at _him_ , and he was more than happy to give them a bigger target.

It was a good plan – at least until they started using explosive rounds. Before he could recalibrate the repulsors for increased damage, he was hit in seven different places, each blow harder than the last. The suit’s sensors flashed, warning him that the hull integrity had dropped steeply; some of the rounds had pierced the suit’s outer casing and had gotten dangerously close to his body – others were merely denting the armor. As he sailed backwards, the lights of the HUD flickering dangerously, he knew he had only one shot left in him before Jarvis would have to take over. He fired the unibeam from his chest just before he hit the ground and prayed that it would find its mark.

He blacked out with the sound of Steve’s voice screaming his name in the comms.

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony hated waking up in medical...

Tony woke to the sound of tapping. At first he wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or awake; generally speaking, when he woke after blacking out in battle, there as a lot of screaming and not so much tapping. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to let anyone know he was up, seeing as how he knew he was going to be screamed at until his ears bled.

He looked around surreptitiously, trying to gauge how much time had passed without looking for a clock. The lights were turned down low, and the room was suspiciously quiet. Did that mean it was night? Or had someone just decided to turn the lights off? He couldn’t tell and it made him nervous not knowing immediately. 

Thankfully, even with the lights off there was still enough light to let him see where he was, and that made him much happier. He relaxed when he was absolutely certain that he wasn’t in SHIELD’s grasp again – or the enemies. He knew this place; this was the largest room in the Tower’s medical wing. He wasn’t sure  _ why _ they had put him here, of all places. It wasn’t like he took up a lot of space on his own, even in a hospital bed. 

Had he been moved here for a reason? 

He knew the emergency medical equipment on this floor was bulky and took up a fair amount of space, so it was possible that he had been moved here to accommodate it being brought in. He didn’t even want to think about what  _ that _ meant. He coughed weakly, unable to hold it back any longer, and licked his dry lips, wondering if there was a jug of water nearby within reach. 

“Good afternoon,” Coulson drawled. He moved somewhere outside of Tony’s field of vision and then the lights came on. He sat down in a chair beside Tony’s bed and made himself comfortable again, balancing a Starkpad on his knee as Tony blinked back spots in his vision. “You always get yourself into so much trouble when I’m not around,” Coulson said.

“Don’t I know it,” Tony chuckled. He groaned as pain lanced through his body and squeezed his eyes shut, blinking away tears. _Clearly_ he hadn’t made it out of the Hydra base as unscathed as he had hoped. He felt sore all over, and didn’t doubt that he was going to stay that way for a very long time. “What happened?” he wheezed once the pain had passed.

“You were shot over seventy six times,” Coulson said. “Ten came close to killing you, and one went clean through your armor and your right shoulder,”

Tony’s stomach roiled at the imagery. “How bad is it?” He sat up slowly and then realized just how bad of a decision that was when his muscles decided to invite the world’s worst Charlie Horse to come play with them. The noise he made was _demonic_.

Coulson ignored Tony in favor of answering his question. “The shot was a good old-fashioned through-and-through. You went through surgery four days ago and you’ve been unconscious ever since,” Coulson said. He frowned at Tony and shook his head. “Are you crazy? I _just_ told you that you went through surgery and you’re trying to sit up,”

“Oh, keep your pants on, Phil. I won’t be doing _that_ again anytime soon,” Tony grunted, shifting back into a less painful position amidst his pillows and blankets. His shoulder wasn’t outright _throbbing_ in protest yet, and he didn’t want to aggravate it for no reason; contrary to popular belief, he knew when to quit. “So, I’m assuming you drew the short straw, huh?” he said.

“Well,” Coulson said, shifting in his chair, “ _Technically_ , I’m not here to babysit _you_ this time,”

“Oh?”

“At the moment I’m merely babysitting this chair,” Coulson said, smirking at Tony. “Captain Rogers got called away to deal with a few things, and he didn’t want to leave you alone. He called in a favor and I agreed to take over for him until he got back,”

“Why was Steve here?” Tony asked, perplexed. He wanted to think that Steve had been sitting at his bedside because he actually wanted to be there, but he had a feeling that the reason was far less cheerful and romantic. Steve probably felt guilty or unhappy about what had happened. Hm. No – unhappy wasn’t the right word for it. _Angry_ was a better descriptor, he thought, chuckling darkly. Steve _hated_ when people got hurt on duty, and he was very good at telling people off for their reckless behavior. He was fairly certain that particular specialty was written on Steve’s resume. Steve Rogers – Captain America, Team Leader, Tactics and Professional Yeller.

It hadn’t been his best idea to go with the Avengers to the Hydra base; Tony knew that. He should stayed home and gone to sleep, instead of insisting on accompanying them. Facing Steve’s wrath, he supposed, was the price he had to pay for that decision. He just hoped Steve wouldn’t yell at him _too_ loudly.

Coulson scowled at Tony, clearly unimpressed by the question. “I know you’re high on painkillers right now, but do I really have to answer that?”

“Yes,” Tony grumbled, sullenly. “You do. _Enlighten_ me,”

Coulson heaved a sigh. “Steve’s been here because he _likes_ you, and he was worried about you,”

“Right,” Tony snorted. “Nice try, but I know why he was _really_ here. He wants to be the first person to _yell_ at me – that’s it, isn’t it? You don’t have to play nice-nice with me here. I know he wants to tell me how much of a moron I am,”

“Oh, he’s hardly the first in line. _Everyone_ wants to yell at you,” Coulson growled. “You went into the field _woefully_ unprepared and almost got yourself killed. If Jarvis hadn’t taken over control of the armor, you would be _dead_ right now,”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you’re too goddamned stubborn to listen to your own body when it’s clearly telling you it is out of energy,” Coulson said. He adjusted the tablet on his lap so it wouldn’t fall and shifted the chair closer to Tony’s bed, his eyes narrowing. “But that’s not the point.”

“And what is?”

“I get it. You don’t think he cares, but he does.”

“He’s angry with me. That’s not _caring_. Murderous rage is not caring,”

“Of course he’s _angry_!” Coulson snapped. His nostrils flared; his cheeks turned from pale pink to bright red. “You almost died keeping him safe! Do you think that would have made _anyone_ happy?”

Tony snorted. “You can leave, you know.” The last thing he needed was a double lecture. Getting told off by Steve was bad enough; he didn’t need the entire team stopping by to kick him while he was down.

“I’m not leaving until the Captain comes back so he can fill you in on all the gory details,” Coulson said, slumping backwards against his chair. “Besides, I’ve got all this paperwork to fill out and now is the perfect time to do it.”

“Shouldn’t you be off somewhere honeymooning with Clint?” Tony growled. “You’re wasting your free time staying here with me. That seems kind of stupid,”

“As annoying as your question is, I suppose it’s only fair that I answer it,” Coulson said, carefully choosing his words. “Clint and I are spending some time apart.” He continued to stare down at his tablet, feigning work. His shoulders were stiff. The redness on his cheeks faded.

Tony frowned. He lifted himself as high up on his pillows as he could manage so he could get a better look at Coulson. The Agent’s normally immaculate grey suit was wrinkled and unbuttoned, his tie dangling loosely around his neck. The top two buttons on his collar were missing, and while he looked comfortable, there was a distinct rigidity to him, as though he was only sitting upright because he had been told to do so.

“What are you talking about?” Tony said, slowly.

Clint and Coulson were spending time apart?

What the hell did that mean? The two of them had been damn near inseparable when they were at the Beach House; what could have changed that? Had something happened while they were defending SHIELD from Hydra?

“Clint asked me to marry him,” Coulson said after a minute of silent contemplation. He kept his gaze low and continued tapping away at his tablet, flicking through the pages on the pdf he was filling out, his movements slow and controlled. “I told him no,”

“Why did you say no?” Tony asked, baffled. “Don’t you want to start a family with him? I distinctly remember you being _very_ pro-marriage – you popped the question yourself! I mean, I know I got hit in the head a lot the past few weeks, but I’m pretty sure that’s what you said,”

Coulson grimaced. “Of course I _want_ to marry Clint,” he said, stabbing away at the touch screen. “That’s not the problem.”

“And the problem is?”

“I can’t do that to him,”

“Do what? _Marry him_?” Tony snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure you saying yes would have absolutely _ruined_ his day,”

Coulson smiled sadly. “He wasn’t ready for it, but he wouldn’t admit it,”

Tony fell silent.

Coulson continued to tap at the tablet, his face going carefully blank. After a few minutes of silence, he sighed and put the tablet on the overtable, pushing it away. “He was trying to prove a point. He didn’t _really_ want to get married.”

“Does he usually just do things he doesn’t want to?”

“No, but I know him and I know that he’s not going to be happy being married.” Coulson shook his head, smiling sadly. “Right now, I don’t even know if he and I are on the same page anymore. He didn’t want children and I still do,”

“There’s always adoption. You don’t need to be a couple for that,”

“I know, but I don’t want to do it alone,” Coulson murmured. “I can live without kids. I think I really can – I’m sad I’m going to miss out on it, but I know it’s not in the cards if I want to keep him – and he’s far more important to me than that dream. We don’t need to be married with kids to have a good life together,”

“I see,”

“That’s the same thing Natasha said,” Coulson chuckled. “I’m guessing neither of you really get what I mean,”

“I can’t say I do considering I’ve never asked anyone to marry me and have my children,” Tony said with a sad smile, “But I understand why you wouldn’t want to rush into something.” If he was in Coulson’s shoes, he wouldn’t want to make any snap decisions – that was for sure. Having children was an even bigger step than marriage, and if Clint thought that it was the only way to keep Coulson, he would probably just quietly give in and agree to kids, even if he didn’t want them. No kid should have to grow up with that hanging over their heads. Even if no one said it out loud, they’d figure it out; kids were smart that way.

“Rushing is a good word for it,” Coulson said, leaning back against his chair. “The hard part wasn’t making the decision. It was talking to him about it,”

“He didn’t want to listen?”

“He listened, but that’s all he did. He hasn’t said a word to me since I said no,” Coulson said, hanging his head.

“And how long ago was that?” Tony asked.

“It’s been five days,”

Tony let out a hissed breath. “ _Ouch_ ,”

“Exactly,” Coulson said. “I’m hoping he just needs time to think things through. Natasha told me she was going to try and talk with him, but so far she hasn’t had the chance to corner him,”

“I take it she’s been keeping an eye on him for you?”

“She has,” Coulson said. “Jarvis has been helping too, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Sure. I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Tony said with a laugh. “Although I wouldn’t mind seeing Fury shit a brick when he finds out Jarvis can get into SHIELD’s network,”

“Let’s put that _lovely_ mental imagery aside,” Coulson snorted. He eyed Tony seriously. “So what’s your excuse for not asking Steve out?”

“How the fuck does _everyone_ seem to know about that?” Tony sputtered, glaring weakly at Coulson. How had the conversation turned back onto _him_ all of a sudden? Hadn’t they just been talking about Clint? Goddamn it!

“It would be stranger if I didn’t know about it,” Coulson said with a thin smile.

“You guys aren’t spying on me, right? Because I’m going to be really, really pissed off if you are. I deserve some fucking _privacy_ after all we’ve been through in the past few months,” Tony growled.

“We’re not _spying_ on you,” Coulson said, rolling his eyes. “It’s just kind of _obvious_ ,”

Tony groaned in despair. “Look, can we not talk about Steve right now? I think I’m in enough pain already,”

“Aright, alright,” Coulson said, holding up his hands. He picked up his tablet again as though determined to get back to work and then put it down with a huffed sigh. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I don’t get how you can just sit by and not say _anything_ to him,”

“I’m not sitting by,” Tony snapped. “I’m trying to woo him, it’s just not working very well,”

“Oh?” Coulson leaned closer, clearly intrigued. “What did you do?”

“Well, after trying and failing to win him over by feeding him good food, and showing him his room again – after which, I might add, I was basically eviscerated without the actual evisceration – I made him some care packages,” Tony grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Coulson winced, glancing down at his tablet. “Ah, yes. I heard all about what happened with his bedroom.”

“Lucky _you_. You didn’t have to be there,” Tony muttered. He wished he could get up and walk out before this conversation could go any farther; he was sick and tired of being forced to think about the poor decisions he had apparently made. Why couldn’t people just leave him alone? Everyone seemed to have ‘helpful’ advice to give, whether he wanted it or not. Didn’t they get that he wanted to think things through himself? He was an adult for Pete’s sake! If he could run a multinational, _billion-dollar_ corporation, he could do his own goddamned _thinking_.

“What kind of care packages did you make him?” Coulson asked. He glanced at the tablet and then went back to staring at Tony, smiling apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Am I _that_ boring?” Tony snorted.

When Tony refused to continue speaking, irritated by the interruption, Coulson tapped the tablet and held it up, showing Tony what he had been looking at. Security camera feeds blinked into focus on the small screen.

Ah, so Coulson _was_ spying – just not on _him_.

Steve was sitting in the feed. The room he was in was recognizable, even though Tony could only see a small portion of it. Steve was in the Avengers conference room a few floor away; he looked ready to get up and leave, but seemed to be toughing things out for some reason. Fury was standing a few feet away, gesturing as he spoke; he didn’t look so happy either, but then again, Fury never looked very happy.

“Steve’s having a _private_ debriefing?” Tony nodded to the tablet instead of making grabby hands at it. He had a feeling Coulson wasn’t going to hand it over even if he begged.

“Unfortunately for him, yes, and judging by the look on Fury’s face, he’ll be gone for hours,” Coulson said. “I’ve been checking up on him. I figured you wouldn’t want any _surprise visits_. So what was in the care packages?”

“Where are the others?” Tony asked. “Are they getting debriefed too, or is the poor Captain getting special treatment?”

“They’ve been debriefed already. So what did you put in the care package?” Coulson asked again, ignoring Tony’s deflection entirely. “I would like details,”

“I bought him a bunch of junk food, ok?” Tony grumbled. “Which, in hindsight, might not have been the smartest move, but it sort of worked,”

Coulson smiled softly. “I disagree. I think he appreciates junk food a lot more than you believe,”

“Oh?”

“He has a sweet tooth,” Coulson said with a shrug. “I thought you knew that already,”

“Yeah,” Tony snorted. “But what I knew and what _really_ goes on in Steve’s head these days are two very different things,”

Coulson nodded. “I suppose that’s a fair assessment,” he said. “Well, I can confirm that he likes junk food, if that’s what you need to hear. Thor gave him a bag of white chocolate M&M’s earlier today and he ate them all in one sitting. He even organized them into separate piles based off of their colours. He’s very fond of yellow and red,”

“I know he likes _candy_ ,” Tony grumbled. “I have _eyes_ ,”

“Obviously,” Coulson chuckled.

“I gave him M&M’s too,”

“I take it they were part of your elaborate care package?”

“A _lot_ of things were in the care packages,” Tony said, shifting under the covers. He wondered if he could get away with pressing the morphine button until it made everything pleasantly fuzzy. Somehow he didn’t think the nurse would appreciate that so much.

“So what was the problem then? Did you give him too much too fast?” Coulson asked.

“I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with find out but no. I did not give him too much too fast. He shot me down before I could really get started – told me I shouldn’t keep feeding him – and then he decided he wanted alone time. He kicked me out of his floor and everything.” Tony tried to roll over and cursed, rubbing at his injured shoulder; it didn’t help in the least. In fact, it might have made his shoulder hurt _more_. “Stupid shoulder,” he muttered bitterly.

“He shot you down?” Coulson cocked an eyebrow. “Are you _sure_ he shot you down?”

“He told me to stop feeding him,”

“That doesn’t mean he shot you down. You didn’t ask him on a date, _did you_?” Coulson said, crossing his arms. “I’m betting he has no idea you’re even _interested_ in him,”

Tony opened his mouth to retort and then shut it with a click of his teeth. Alright. Maybe Coulson had a valid point – _this time_. You couldn’t actually be shot down if you hadn’t _actually_ asked someone out.

“I take it you didn’t actually think that through, huh,” Coulson said with a smirk.

“Apparently not,” Tony admitted, scowling.

“Well, I hate to tell you this, but he’s a super soldier, not a psychic,” Coulson said. “He can’t read your mind and see what you’re actually intending to say. He was probably just telling you not to feed him because he feels uncomfortable when people give him things. He wasn’t shooting _you_ down per say – just the food,”

“Alright,” Tony grunted. “Fine. He _didn’t_ shoot me down – he just shot down the care packages,”

“Have you thought about actually sitting him down and talking to him about how you feel?” Coulson asked.

“No,” Tony said sharply. “I haven’t. I don’t know – I guess I just don’t want to risk hearing him say no,”

“So instead, you’re going to keep doing things that will make him say no over and over again?” Coulson snorted. “That sounds like _fun_ ,”

“Yeah, but that one _no_ is a pretty big one,” Tony grumbled. “If he says no right off the bat, it means I don’t have a shot at all – _ever_. I don’t want to risk that,”

“I see,”

“I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not being _stupid_ ,” Tony muttered.

“I’m not saying you are,” Coulson said, smiling softly. “I get it. You were scared – I know what that’s like. I asked Clint to marry me, remember?”

Tony winced. Alright – maybe Coulson _did_ know a little about what he was going through. Getting a no from a marriage proposal would probably suck more than a plain old no-I’m-not-going-to-date-you no, after all.

“I think you should talk with him,” Coulson continued, scrubbing a hand over his unshaven chin. “It’s worth the risk, right? You love the guy, so suck it up and let him know how you feel,”

“What am I supposed to say?” Tony said. He tugged uselessly at the blankets, too weak to really move them. “Am I supposed to just walk up to him and say, ‘Hi Steve – I love you. Will go out with me?’” He snorted and shook his head. “No, thank you.”

“You don’t have to phrase it like _that_ ,” Coulson chuckled. “Maybe start with a nice ‘will you go out with me.’ That’s probably more than enough for now,”

“Yeah, because he’s going to say _yes_ ,”

“He might,” Coulson said. “What makes you think he’s going to say no? From what I can see, he seems to think you’re a keeper,”

Tony sighed. “He just gets this _look_ sometimes, you know? It’s like he’s upset or something. He doesn’t do it with anyone else – just with me,”

“So that’s it? You’re going to give up and you’re going to pine for him for all eternity because he gets a funny look on his face sometimes?” Coulson asked. “The great Tony Stark is going to give up just like that?”

“I never said _that_ ,” Tony growled. “I’m working on a new plan,”

“Oh?” Coulson glanced down at the tablet and then back up again.

“It’s going to be one that’ll work even after he finishes screaming in my face about me being an idiot,” Tony said. “I can fix it. I just need to _think_ ,”

“It better be a good plan,”

“Well what do _you_ suggest I do?” Tony growled. “Any words of wisdom?”

“I would suggest _listening_ to what he says,” Coulson said. “Listening usually goes a long way with this sort of thing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,”

“Please do,” Coulson said, turning his gaze back to the tablet.

“So what are you going to do about Clint?” Tony asked.

Coulson stilled, his finger held above the tablet in mid-swipe. “I don’t know, Tony,”

“You think he’s not going to forgive you?”

“I think he’s mad and feeling hurt. He has every right to want space right now,”

“Well, he should suck it up, too,” Tony grumbled, closing his eyes. “He told you no first. Now he knows what it feels like,”

Coulson sighed wearily. “I don’t think that’s going to make things better,”

“I know,” Tony said. “I’m sorry things suck,”

“I’m sorry things suck for you too,” Coulson said. “I did your paperwork for you, by the way,”

“Oh?” Tony smirked. “I bet _that_ was fun,”

“It wasn’t that hard. All I had to do was write ‘Tony Stark went into the field without sleeping’ in every line. After a while it got a little repetitive so I switched it up with a few ‘Tony hacked Hydra’s files and got us the best information we have so far’,” Coulson grumbled. “You didn’t do too badly out there, you know,”

“I got myself shot seventy six times and one got me in the shoulder. I totaled my suit. That’s not good in my books,”

“True, you did fuck up, but you kept everyone alive,” Coulson said, patting Tony on the knee. “And yes, everyone was a little annoyed that they had to drag the suit back to the Quinjet, but at least they were all alive and breathing. It could have been far worse if you hadn’t put yourself in the line of fire.”

“Do me a favor – tell that to _Steve_ when he comes back,” Tony grunted. “Even better – type it up, print it out and sign it in front of a Notary. He might actually believe it that way,”

Coulson smiled. “I think you need to get some more sleep. You’re talking crazy,”

“Oh please,” Tony said with a yawn, sinking deeper into his pillows. “It’s not like I asked you to deliver it to him via stripper-gram,”

“ _Please_ don’t ever do that,” Coulson sighed.

“What? Me? Behave?” Tony chuckled. “Fat chance,”

“If you hurt him, I will kill you and no one will ever find your body,” Coulson warned, smiling grimly at Tony. “Hurting, in this case, also includes traumatizing him via stripper-gram,”

“You know, I’d be wondering why everyone keeps telling me that, but I know me too well to fake innocence,” Tony sighed.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Coulson said, eyeing his tablet. “Steve will get his warning when the time comes. The worlds needs Iron Man too, you know,”

Tony smiled. “Thanks,”

“You’re welcome. Now go to sleep. I need to work and you’re noisy – and now all I can think about is stripper-grams. I hate you,”

 

 

Tony woke to the sound of hushed talking. He opened one eye a crack and saw that Steve and Coulson were standing in the doorway. Steve’s face had gone beet red, and while he was trying to keep his voice down, it was clear he was having trouble keeping it that way. Coulson, on the other hand, looked calm and cool as always, unfazed by the discussion.

Tony closed his eyes and feigned sleep as they continued to argue. If he was lucky, Steve would storm off and completely forget about yelling at him.

Sadly, he was not lucky. He heard footsteps approaching, but they weren’t the crisp, SHIELD Agent footsteps he had been hoping for; these were Steve footsteps – _angry_ Steve footsteps. He was so screwed.

“Tony,” Steve growled. “I know you’re awake,”

“No I’m not,” Tony said, his eyes still squeezed shut. “You’re imagining things. I’m asleep,”

“I’m not in the mood,” Steve said.

Tony sighed and opened his eyes. Oh well. It had been worth a shot. He smiled weakly at Steve, even though he knew his charm had long since lost its power. “Hello,”

“Hello,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Before you start,” Tony said quickly, “I just want you to know that I have in fact actually thought about what I did wrong,”

Steve cocked an eyebrow; his lips pursed in displeasure.

“I understand why you’re angry,” Tony said. “And I’m sorry – I should have told you earlier that I was running on no sleep, but I kind of thought you already knew,”

“The others _knew_?” Steve’s voice was pitched dangerously low. His left eye twitched. “They _all_ knew?”

“Rhodey, Pepper and Bucky knew,” Tony said. He winced when his brain caught up with him. Well, he had just thrown three people under the bus without meaning to; hopefully it would at least buy him some time. “Oh, and Jarvis knew, but that’s kind of a given.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell _me_?” Steve asked. Tony had expected him to sound angry, but instead, there was only hurt in Steve’s voice.

“I don’t know,” Tony said. He had been sure that someone had filled Steve in on what was going on; Steve was the leader of the Avengers after all. So why hadn’t someone said something?

Steve sat down in Coulson’s abandoned chair with a sigh, looking Tony over. His gaze settled on the bandages peeking out from the high neckline of Tony’s hospital gown; his expression turned grim. “You almost got yourself killed,” he said.

“I noticed,”

“Did you even _think_ before you threw yourself down that hallway?” Steve growled. “Did you? Because from where I was standing, it didn’t look like you were thinking at all!”

Tony grimaced. He had thought about what he was doing alright; of course he had. He had calculated the odds and they hadn’t been good. He had known it would end badly for him, but he hadn’t been willing to take the risk of letting Clint or Natasha – or god forbid _Steve_ – taking point in that hallway. Yes, they all had more than enough experience dealing with close quarters combat, but all the same he had been afraid that someone would end up dead. His suit had been designed to keep bullets out. Human flesh wasn’t that durable. He remained silent, accepting Steve’s anger, knowing that nothing he said now would make any difference.

“Bucky won’t even come in here,” Steve said quietly. He held his fists clenched in his lap. “He doesn’t even want to look at you, he’s so angry,”

Tony held in a snort of disbelief. Bucky probably didn’t give two shits about him being in a hospital bed. He was probably just pissed off that the upgrades to his arm had been delayed.

“You don’t care, do you,” Steve said, sharply. “We had to drag you back to the Quinjet, you know. It took all three of us to get you out of that fucking hallway, and you don’t even care,”

“I care,” Tony muttered. He knew all about the way they had been forced to drag him through the compound thanks to Coulson, but he hadn’t known it had been so hard on them. “I’m sorry you had to do that, Steve,”

“Bullshit! You’re not sorry! If you had cared, you would have given someone the override codes, to your _fucking_ suit,” Steve snapped. He gritted his teeth; his eyes watered as he glared full force at Tony. “Thor had to tear it off of you piece by piece. Do you even understand how terrifying that is? We almost had to watch you die, all because you didn’t trust us enough to give us overrides to the armor,”

Tony frowned. “I gave you the overrides,”

“No, Tony,” Steve said, “You didn’t,”

“Well I _know_ I gave overrides to Pepper – Hell, Rhodey has them too! I made sure you guys could get the suit open in case of an emergency,” Tony insisted. “You had access! I _know_ you did,”

“That’s all well and good, but Rhodey and Pepper weren’t there when we needed them, Tony,” Steve snapped. “They were on the other side of the building, swarmed by Hydra agents!”

“Well how is that _my_ fault?” Tony growled. “It’s not like I didn’t give out overrides!”

“Sir,” Jarvis said, tentatively. “If I may interject – you did not get around to activating or giving Captain Rogers the override you made for him. The code is logged and in the system, but you did not initialize it.”

“What?” Tony felt like he had been hit in the gut. He _hadn’t_ given the codes to Steve?

Steve’s glare softened. “I have override codes for your suit?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers,” Jarvis said. “I’m afraid it is my fault that they did not work when you needed them,”

“Alright, well initialize them now,” Tony said, tersely. “Fucking _hell_ , Jarvis! He was supposed to be able to open the armor!”

“I’m truly sorry sir,” Jarvis said, his voice going strangely soft.

“It’s fine,” Tony sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair slowly, mindful of his injured shoulder. “I’m the one who didn’t hit the fucking checkbox when I was done. That’s not your fault – that’s on me,”

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He glanced down at his hands and then back up at Tony, seeming lost.

“Just get on with it and say it,” Tony said, quietly. He knew what was coming. The entire conversation had been leading up to this and he wasn’t going to miss it even though he wanted to.

“You’re an important member of the team Tony and it hurts to have to say this, but I think you need to be benched. When you’re healthy again, we can bring you back into the field, but until then, you’re out,”

The words stung, but for once Tony agreed with them. He couldn’t very well use the armor in his condition – at least not until his shoulder was working again – and while he resented being left behind when everyone was out beating on Hydra, he knew he needed to take the time to heal. Oh god. He was growing as an _individual_. He shuddered inwardly. Pepper was going to have a field day with this – he just knew it. “Alright,” he said, closing his eyes. “I’m benched. Understood.”

Steve sighed softly. “Tony,”

“What? Do you have something else to add? I get that I fucked up big time, Steve, I do. But I also know that if I wasn’t there, none of the data from that Hydra base would be here with us,” Tony said, trying to stay calm. “I’m not sorry I did what I did. I’m am sorry that I stayed awake for so long – that I’m sorry for, but the part where I saved lives? That part I would do again in a heartbeat if I had to,”

“That data wasn’t more important than your life,” Steve hissed, his face turning an ugly shade of red. “Damn it Tony! You _matter_ to people! You matter to _me_ – and when you run off and throw your life away like that, it hurts all of us!” He stood up, his fists held clenched at his sides and turned away from Tony. “Jesus – I can’t do this right now,” he said. He stormed out of the room, disappearing down the hall.

Tony let out a long, weary laugh and put his face in his hands. “Well, at least I didn’t get punched in the face,”

“Sir?” Jarvis’ voice was tentative, as though he wasn’t so sure he should be interrupting.

“Yes?” Tony mumbled through his hands.

“The prototype arm you built for Mr. Barnes has emerged from phase one testing with no damage. Would you like me to move it into phase two testing?” Jarvis asked.

Tony lowered his hands. “Do it,” he said. Maybe if he gave Bucky the best arm on the whole damn planet, Steve would forgive him. He wasn’t against using bribery at this point. And if Bucky was going to owe him the _biggest_ debt ever, well, he might as well make the debt worth it. “What are the numbers looking like? What’s your thoughts on putting it into production?”

“It should be finished with phase two testing in approximately seventeen hours,” Jarvis said. “So far, the results are promising. The stress tests themselves have worked far better than anticipated. I would say it is indeed ready for manufacturing, sir,”

“That’s good,” Tony nodded, glad to focus on the work instead of on the fact that he was now a non-Avenger. “How many times has Bucky asked about it?” he asked out of morbid curiosity.

“He has mentioned it to me in passing over thirty times now,” Jarvis said, sounding amused. “I believe he intended to ask you himself, but felt it was better to let Captain Rogers stay with you instead,”

Huh.

Tony hadn’t though Bucky had cared; apparently he had been wrong about the guy.

 

 

Tony woke the next morning to find Steve snoring at his bedside. Steve was sprawled in his chair with his head tilted back and his mouth hanging open; there was a trail of spittle on his cheek, and judging by how deeply asleep he was, he had been here for quite some time. Tony smirked at the sight. He hadn’t expected to see Steve quite so soon after their fight. He had expected to spend a few days alone as punishment for his bad behavior, but somehow Steve had found it in him to forgive him. That, or he was here to rain down even more judgemental wrath.

Tony rubbed at his eyes. Steve was going to have one hell of a crick in his neck when he woke up, but it didn’t look like he was going to let out a scream of agony. Tony cleared his throat as loudly as he could and couldn’t keep himself from laughing when Steve nearly fell out of his chair, startled awake.

Steve scowled at Tony as he pulled himself back onto his chair. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, grimacing. “Very funny, Tony,”

Tony smiled and leaned contentedly back into his pillows.

“I’m sorry I left last night,” Steve murmured, looking down at the floor.

“It’s ok,”

“It’s _not_ ok,” Steve said, lifting his head so he could catch Tony’s eye. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“It’s not like you haven’t yelled at me before,”

Steve’s shoulder slumped. “I know,” he muttered. “I’m not very good at talking to you,”

“Oh? I hadn’t noticed,” Tony said dryly.

Steve scowled. “Look, can we move on from this? I’d like to stay your friend, if that’s possible,”

“Who said we _weren’t_ friends?” Tony asked, curious. He hadn’t said anything like that the night before, so where had Steve gotten that idea from?

Steve’s eyes widened; he smiled sheepishly. “I think I might have read into our conversation last night,”

“I guess so,” Tony said. “Look, I get that you had to bench me. I knew it was going to happen, alright? It was going to be either you or Coulson who said it. You just ended up getting the shit end of the stick. I’m not holding it against you,”

“Alright,” Steve said. “Well, I’m still sorry. I know what it’s like being taken off the field.” His expression turned somber. “They took me off too, you know. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be useful.”

“I know,” Tony said. “Don’t worry – I’ve got plenty of work to keep me busy. There’s a pile of projects I can tackle now that I’m off-duty. I don’t mind having spare time on my hands,”

Steve smiled and nodded along. “Alright. Well, as long as you’re going to keep busy,” he said. He stood up and stretched out, cracking his back. His shirt, once woefully tight, hung around his shoulders and thighs like a dress. He touched his stomach self-consciously, as though his shirt had risen and then flattened the fabric down over his loose jeans. “I’ll go get breakfast for us,” he said, turning towards the door.

“Bring me coffee, please,” Tony called out, knowing full well he wasn’t going to get any.

 

When Steve returned twenty minutes later, carrying two hospital trays weighed down with hefty stacks of pancakes, Tony almost wanted to jump up and help him; undeterred by the weight he was carrying, Steve managed to manoeuver the overtable closer with his foot, grinning the entire time. He set everything down and dusted off his hands. “That wasn’t too hard,”

Tony smiled.

“So,” Steve said, pushing the overtable over top of Tony’s lap so he could reach his food. “I hope you like pancakes,”

Tony chuckled. “Sure. I hope you don’t expect me to eat _all_ of this,” he said, gesturing to the second tray.

Steve grinned. “Of course not,” he said, sitting down. He slid the chair closer and picked up his fork. “The second tray is mine. Hands off!”

Tony cut up his pancakes one handed, letting out a jaw cracking yawn. He sighed resignedly, knowing his day wasn’t likely to improve. He hated being trapped in bed. He ate slowly, wishing he could appreciate the food; it was good, but being in a hospital gown made everything taste just a little bit worse than usual. He fiddled with his food but didn’t mash anything up. Just because he wasn’t going to finish it didn’t mean he could just treat it like garbage. Besides – Steve could have it.

Steve cleared his plate and looked up at Tony; he frowned when he noticed that Tony wasn’t eating anymore. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Tony said, pushing his plate away. “I guess I’m just not as hungry as I thought I was. You can take this off my hands if you want,”

Steve smiled softly and pulled Tony’s plate on top of his; he dug in, spearing pancakes in stacks. “Do you have any plans for today?” he asked holding his hand in front of his mouth so Tony didn’t have to watch him chew.

“I don’t know,” Tony said. He shrugged and then cursed, glaring at his shoulder. Luckily, he hadn’t managed to pop any stitches even when he had rolled over in the middle of the night. “I guess I’ll just do some paperwork,”

“You could always _sleep_ ,” Steve said, finishing the last few bites of pancake. He stacked the trays on top of one another and stood up. “Tell you what,” he said, picking up the trays. “Why don’t you take a nap, and I’ll come back later with a deck of cards.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tony said, snuggling deeper into his blankets. He was warm and his stomach was full; there was no way he could feel any better – unless Steve crawled into bed with him, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen.

Steve headed to the door, trays in hand.

“Steve?”

Steve paused, turning slowly. “Yes?”

“Thanks for breakfast,” Tony said, flashing Steve a sleepy smile.

Steve smiled back. “Sure. Not a problem. Get some sleep, alright?”

“You too,” Tony said.

 

Steve came back around lunch time, bringing with him a bag of greasy burgers. They ate, shooting furtive looks down the hallway every few minutes to make sure they weren’t being watched by the nurse. Tony had a feeling Jarvis had already ratted them out to someone but since no one came to steal their food away, he wasn’t all that upset.

After they finished eating, Steve pulled out a well-used pack of playing cards; they played Go Fish until the nurse came by to give Tony more painkillers. After that Tony was too drowzy to hold the cards up.

Steve pulled out a book, smirking at the way Tony’s eyelids were drooping and started to read as Tony snored beside him.

Dinner came and went.

Steve brought out a pack of M&M’s and set them on the overtable, sorting them out into piles by their colour; after a bit of coaxing, he brought Tony his tablet and continued to read in his chair, occasionally taking an M&M off the table.

Tony worked on his armor, idly tweaking the work already there. He was determined to make the suit lighter, and now that he had the time to tinker, he was sure he could get the work done. He pulled up a list of available materials and sorted through the things he had already tried, pursing his lips when he came to Vibranium. He paused, debating on the best route to take. He looked up, startled, when Steve set a handful of M&M’s down in front of him. They were the red and yellow ones. Steve gathered them in a little pile and steadied them so they wouldn’t roll away.

“Here,” Steve said, his eyes still on his book. He flipped a page, idly picking up a green M&M from another pile and popping it into his mouth.

“Thanks,” Tony said, smiling softly at Steve. He ate one of the red M&M’s, letting the chocolate melt in his mouth. Despite having eaten these for years, he hadn’t really stopped to savor one in a long time. He picked up another as he crunched through the peanut in the centre.

“What are you working on?” Steve asked, lowering his book.

“I’m trying to make the armor lighter,” Tony said, running his tongue over his teeth to get the last of the chocolate.

Steve looked away, the tips of his ears going faintly pink. “Oh? Any luck so far?”

“A little,” Tony said. He reminded himself for the thousandth time not to shrug and spun one of the M&M’s around on the overtable instead. “I was thinking about trying to make a new alloy with Vibranium, but I haven’t exactly worked out the kinks with it yet,”

“You seem to be doing alright with what you have,” Steve said.

“True,” Tony said, pursing his lips as he made another adjustment to the armor. The modification didn’t make the weight shrink enough. He scowled and saved the file as a separate iteration on the off chance that he wanted to come back and look at it again later. “Well, I was thinking of eventually making an organic armor,” he said, pulling up the folder that contained Extremis. He decrypted the files easily, pleased to see that it had stayed safe in his absence. The files weren’t complete – Bits and pieces were shared and hidden in other folders, but most of what he needed was here. The rest of the details were in his head, where no one could get at them.

“Organic?” Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Did you ever get briefed about what happened to my place in Malibu?” Tony asked. He hadn’t really talked with Steve about what had gone on with Aldrich Killian; he knew Steve had gotten the briefings, but he wasn’t so sure anything else had been passed on to him by SHIELD. Fury had promised to keep everything quiet, but sometimes it was hard to tell just what had been said and what had been filed away for future use. He hadn’t trusted SHIELD with Extremis’ code, but there was a chance they had gotten a hold of it somehow; that thought alone terrified him.

Steve’s face went carefully blank. “I’ve read the reports,” he said, putting his finger in between the pages of his book. “Is this about Extremis?”

Tony scowled. “So they told you all about it, huh?”

“Not exactly,” Steve said, looking sheepish. “I kind of asked Natasha about it after Coulson handed me a file with exactly one sheet of paper in it. She got the information from an uh… _unnamed source_ ,”

“Pepper told Natasha?” Tony snorted. “I’m not surprised, I just didn’t think Natasha would spill the beans,”

“Well, she didn’t exactly spill anything useful,” Steve sighed. “She just told me it had something to do with a scientist you knew. She said it was extremely dangerous,”

“Did she tell you what Extremis can do?” Tony asked.

“She said something about biological enhancement and about it being based on the super soldier serum,” Steve said. “But I thought the serum died with Doctor Erskine,”

“Well, you got that right. The serum is a dead end right now, but Extremis is the next best thing. It was created by someone I used to know years ago – a woman by the name of Maya Hansen. She wanted to unlock the human brain – to tap into the hidden potential she found there. I won’t bore you with the details, but essentially, she figured out that she could make people restore damaged cells quickly.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow. “That sounds like some powerful stuff,”

“Oh it was,” Tony sighed. “The problem was that no one was going to give her the money to make it unless she found a way to market it to them in a darker light. The government – and AIM were interested in making money off of it. Aldrich Killian helped her get test subjects and they started working out the kinks. Those who survived the initial injections gained super strength, cellular regeneration and a few other more _unpleasant_ side effects,” Tony said.

“Natasha said it made people explode,” Steve said, gnawing on his lower lip. “I’m assuming that’s a bad thing.”

“Generally speaking,” Tony chuckled. “Yes. I fixed the whole fireball of death thing, though, so it’s not really an issue anymore,”

“That’s good, I guess,” Steve said. “Are you planning on making something with it?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Tony said. “Right now what I want to do with it is theoretical. I can’t decide what I need it to do. The equipment doesn’t exist anymore, and I don’t trust anyone to start the project up again,”

“But you want to build the armor using Extremis?” Steve asked. He fiddled with his book, scrunching up his face in displeasure. “You want _living_ armor?”

Tony laughed. “No, no. _God_ no! It’s dangerous enough screwing around with Extremis in humans. Besides, I wouldn’t want to make armor that could feel _pain_ ,” he said. He shuddered at the very thought of a living armor. Sure, the idea of one having its own mind was _interesting_ , but the idea that it could hurt and suffer made his stomach churn. It was one thing suffering through damage done to his own body; it was another to let something happen to a living body that wasn’t his. He wanted a metal shield – not a meat one.

“Then what do you mean?” Steve asked, looking confused. “You said organic. I assumed that meant building something fleshy,”

“Well, technically it wouldn’t be me building something – it would be me rebuilding… me. The armor would be stored inside my body,” Tony said, tapping away at his tablet. He looked up when he realized that Steve had fallen suspiciously silent and lowered the tablet to his lap.

Steve’s face had gone deathly pale, and he looked a like he was trying not to be ill.

“Are you alright?” Tony asked, frowning.

“You want to store your armor _inside_ of you,” Steve said. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Tony,”

“What are you talking about? It’s a _great_ idea,” Tony said, scowling. “Think about it. I’d never have to be without it. No one could ever take me hostage or attack me in the street – I’d always be ready for a fight,”

Steve relaxed slightly, but remained pale and nauseous looking. “While I can see the advantage in that,” he said, slowly. “That sounds kind of risky,”

“As I said,” Tony sighed. “It’s only theoretical right now. It’s not like I’m going to run off Home Depot and whip something together. There are two big problems I need to solve first – one, the tech is experimental and two – Extremis only works on a very small percentage of people,”

Steve frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that,”

“Oh calm down,” Tony grumbled, “I didn’t say I was doing it yet. Besides, there’s another serum that was just as risky, you know,”

Steve flinched.

“What?” Tony asked, startled by the reaction.

Steve glanced down at his book again. “I know I can’t order you not to do this, but I’d like to ask you as a friend not to,”

“Steve,” Tony murmured.

“I know,” Steve said, standing up. He put his bookmark in to keep his place and tucked his book under his arm. “I’m not going to lecture you about it, but can you just – can you talk to me before you do it? I’d like to be there to lend a hand if possible.”

“Alright,” Tony said, smiling. “Believe me, it’s not going to happen any time soon. I’ve had the code lying around for a long time now, Steve. I’m not in any rush. Having lighter armor would be great, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to jump to something that extreme just to shed a few pounds. I’ve got plenty of alloys to work with. I’ll make something work without it,”

Steve nodded. “Alright,” he said. He checked his watch and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d better let you get some sleep. It’s almost midnight,”

Tony glanced down at his tablet and was surprised to see that Steve was right. Time certainly had flown; he hadn’t expected it to be midnight this soon. “Damn,” he said. “I guess you’re right.” He saved his progress and set the tablet on the overtable. Now that he thought about it, he did feel pretty tired. He shifted against his pillows and yawned into the back of his arm. “Thanks for staying with me,” he said. “I think I kind of wasted your day.”

“Nah,” Steve said with a soft smile. “It wasn’t a waste. I had a really good day. It was a nice distraction.” He gave Tony a wave and headed towards the door, shutting the lights off. “Good night, Tony,”

“Night,” Tony said, yawning again. He eyed the overtable and wondered if he could start working again now that Steve was gone; he fell asleep before he could decide what to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to get the second part of this two part update out tomorrow night - We'll see what happens : ) Let me know if anything weird is in here! Thanks for reading!


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting stuck in the medical wing was starting to be a happy accident....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for nightmares with blood and medical torture (it's small and near the end).
> 
> Let me know if you spot anything weird! : ) Thanks for reading!

Tony woke to find Steve already at his bedside with breakfast; he sniffed the air tentatively, his eyes still half-closed and grinned, pleased to see that today had brought him two of his favourite things – Steve, and a plate of waffles, whipped cream and peaches.

“Good morning,” Steve said, sliding the overtable closer to Tony’s bed. There was a plastic bag sitting on the floor beside his chair. Tony wouldn’t have even noticed it if Steve hadn’t kept shifting it across the floor with his foot; it crinkled every time it moved.

Tony yawned into his hand. The smell of fresh waffles pulled his attention away from the bag almost immediately. “Morning,” he said. He leaned forwards mechanically, stretching as much as his injured shoulder would allow and pulled the overtable across his lap with his good arm. He picked up his fork without prompting and attacked his breakfast before it could get cold, pleased to get a taste of real whipped cream. He moaned aloud, and winked apologetically at Steve. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t be allowed to eat waffles in public,” 

“That’s alright,” Steve chuckled. He shifted the bag beside his foot again. “I’ve heard worse,”

“How was your night?” Tony asked through a mouthful of peaches. Oh god – they were so  _ good _ ! 

“Well, I had a very enlightening talk with Natasha and Colonel Rhodes before I went out shopping,” Steve said. 

“Oh?” 

“Apparently I was missing some details and they felt I needed to hear them – repeatedly and loudly,” Steve said, looking sheepish. He ducked his head. “Turns out I assumed a bit too much about out last mission,” 

“What did they tell you?” Tony asked, trying not to laugh through a mouthful of whipped cream. Steve looked like a puppy who had eaten its owner’s favourite couch, cushions, fluff and all. If he had had a tail, it would be hanging limply between his legs.

“They told me that the Colonel was the one who Ok’d you coming with us,” Steve said, softly.

“Yeah, he did. I think he just wanted to make sure he could keep an eye on me. He knows me too well. I would have headed out after you guys on my own if he had said no,” Tony said. The events of the morning they had left for the Hydra base were still hazy, but Tony could specifically remember talking with Rhodey, Pepper and Bucky before they left; he just couldn’t remember what had been said, and he hadn’t had the chance to review the security footage yet. It was second thing on his list – after waffles, of course. 

“That’s what the Colonel said,” Steve said with a sigh. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,”

“You’ve said that already,”

“But I really am sorry,” Steve said, still looking absolutely miserable. 

“It’s not your fault you were debriefed and there were things left out,” Tony said. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you would have said yes too if it meant keeping me from heading off without backup or help,”

“I would have tied you to your bed,” Steve grumbled. He rolled his eyes when he realized what he had said. “Alright, laugh it up,”

Tony snorted. “Moi? Laugh at you saying  _ dirty _ things?  _ Never _ ,”

“Oh, you haven’t heard me talk dirty yet,” Steve said with a smirk. 

Tony smirked back and batted his eyelashes. “I think I’d like to hear that,”

Steve let out a strangled laugh and looked away, his ears going faintly pink. “Ok, you got me. I was bluffing,”

“ _ Liar _ ,” Tony snorted, still smirking. “You were with the Howling Commandos. I’ve heard the stories – you owe me some dirty talk, Rogers, and one day I’m going to collect on it.” A split second after the words left his mouth, he realized what he had said; he froze, hoping his smirk hadn’t broken as he panicked inwardly. Oh god – oh god – why had he said that? That wasn’t  _ wooing _ ! That was outright flirting! He wasn’t anywhere near outright flirting yet! Shit! Shit! Shit!

Steve smiled warmly. “Alright, Tony. I’ll save some up and get back to you,”

Tony chuckled and nodded to the bag at Steve’s feet, more than happy to change the subject now that he knew he hadn’t just stuck his foot in his mouth. “So what’d you go shopping for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Steve grinned and lifted the bag up, setting it reverently in his lap. “I got a bunch of stuff, but you only get to see one thing today. I’m saving the rest for later.” He pulled out a cardboard box the size of his hand and handed it to Tony, setting the bag back down on the floor so Tony couldn’t see inside it.

Tony took the box and flipped it over, eyeing it suspiciously. Inside the brown cardboard box were four milk chocolate cigars wrapped in plastic and gold ribbon; they looked just like the real thing. He chuckled and handed the chocolates back. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen these before,”

Steve beamed. “Good to hear,” he said, cracking open the box. He pulled one out and tossed it to Tony, setting one out for himself. “I wanted to find something you haven’t tried before, so I asked Pepper for advice,”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. Steve had gone to Pepper for advice on about what kind of _chocolate_ to feed him? He grinned at Steve. Clearly he wasn’t doing as badly as he had thought.

“Yeah,” Steve said, scratching at the short hairs on the back of his neck. He smiled sheepishly. “You took care of me and brought me all that candy. I kind of feel like I should return the favor,”

“You don’t need to,” Tony said with a smile. “I didn’t do it because I wanted to get brownie points or something,”

“Brownie points?”

“Doing good deeds to win points with people,”

“Ah, I see,” Steve said. He smiled at Tony, spinning the chocolate cigar around in a circle on the overtable. “I think I’m winning some points too, if I’m not mistaken,”

Tony grinned. “Oh yeah. I’m _easy_ that way,”

“Good to know,” Steve chuckled. He unwrapped the chocolate cigar and stuck it between his lips as if it was the real thing. “I feel like I should be trimming the end off of this thing before I eat it,”

“You smoked?” Tony asked. He wasn’t particularly surprised to hear that Steve had had a few cigars over the years; he had read damn near everything about Captain America after all, and there were quite a few pictures of Cap smoking in his collection. He had always though it was propaganda to get people to buy cigarettes. A lot of army guys he knew smoked; Rhodey had offered him a cigarette a time or two, but he had always waved them off. He had never really been into the taste or smell of tobacco, and cigars were their own class of nasty. He knew; he had smoked a few to keep Obie happy during business meetings. He hadn’t been able to get the taste out of his mouth without chugging a bottle of scotch afterwards.

“I didn’t go looking for them, but yeah, I’ve had one or two. The generals used to like handing them out to the Howling Commandos when we finished missions faster than they expected,” Steve said.

“What did you think about the real ones?” Tony asked, unwrapping his chocolate cigar.

“I kind of gave mine to Bucky,” Steve said. “He liked to trade them for comics and chocolate,”

Tony smirked. “I’m not surprised. I think I’d have done the same. They kind of taste awful,”

Steve looked relieved. “Well, these ones should be better,”

“Oh yeah,” Tony said. He took the time to bite the end off of the chocolate cigar and ate it before putting it between his lips so he could pretend smoke it.

Steve did the same.

They looked each other in the eye, still fake smoking, and then burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

Tony took another bite of chocolate; it was better quality than the stuff that was in the M&M’s, and had probably cost Steve an arm and a leg too. They had to be _least_ ten bucks a pack. He wondered how long Steve had taken to pick out this particular treat. There was always a thousand and one things to look at in a quality chocolate shop; the display case at the back alone usually had enough truffles in it to happily deflate an unsuspecting customer’s wallet in seconds.

“It’s not bad,” Steve said, nibbling at the melting chocolate before it could end up smeared all over his lower lip. “I guess the lady at the counter was right after all,”

“I guess so,” Tony agreed. He took his time, matching his bites to Steve’s, not wanting to rush; this he wanted to savor and remember. They finished the chocolate at the same time, licking their fingers clean when they were done.

“You probably just ruined yourself for cheap chocolate now,” Tony said.

Steve chuckled. “I wouldn’t be surprised. I think I ruined myself for a _lot_ of things today,”

“Oh?” Tony said, smiling sweetly.

“Yep,” Steve said, crumping up his wrapper. He cleared his throat. “That store was really big,”

“I take it you went to an actual Godiva’s, huh?” Tony played with his wrapper, twisting it into a spiral. It spun around between his fingers.

“That’s the one alright,” Steve said. “Pepper told me it would be the best place to get quality chocolate without being traumatized by the prices. I have a feeling the phrase ‘ _traumatized by the prices’_ doesn’t mean quite the same thing to her as it does to me.” He checked his watch and stood so he could cleaned up Tony’s tray and roll the overtable out of the way. He fidgeted, eyeing Tony with a curious expression on his face. His eyes seemed to be locked on Tony’s upper lip.

“What?” Tony asked, still smiling. “Do I have chocolate all over my face?” He ran his fingers over his lips and skimmed the edge of his beard, but when he looked at them afterwards there was nothing to be seen.

“It’s nothing,” Steve said quickly, giving Tony a soft smile. He scooped up the plastic bag and hung it around his wrist by the handles; he grasped Tony’s tray with his free hand. “Bucky wants to go to the mall to get some new clothes and he hates crowds, so I guess I’ve got to cut this short,”

“Probably a good idea to head out now,” Tony said. “They get kind of crazy out there after around lunchtime. I wish I could come with you. I kind of want to watch Bucky freak out when he sees all the neon coloured clothing,”

“As much as I appreciate the offer, I think it’s a little early to be dragging you around anywhere,” Steve said dryly. “I’ll make sure Bucky’s got some good clothes – stuff that won’t make him look awful on a first date,”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” Tony said. He didn’t really give a crap what Bucky wore; the guy could strut around in a burlap sack for all he cared, but if Steve wanted to make sure Bucky was appropriately dressed for all occasions, he was all for it. It would keep the press off his back, at any rate. “Good luck,” he said. Shopping for clothes was a hassle for normal people, and Bucky was decidedly _not_ normal.

“I’ll see you later, alright?” Steve said, hovering in the doorway.

“Sure,” Tony said, saluting Steve. “Thanks for the cigar, Captain,”

Steve smiled; his eyes crinkled around the edges. “You’re welcome,”

 

 

With Steve gone and nothing better to do, Tony threw himself back into work. He ran through the last of the data from the batch tests done on Bucky’s new arm and tweaked the numbers one last time; the arm was ready for manufacturing now, and he was glad to be done with it – for now. He knew he would be working on a new one in a few months, but for now he could let that project sleep. The fine-tuning and calibrations to the finished product could wait for another day.

He pulled up the latest Extremis notes he had saved on his tablet, ready to start tinkering with the code again, and sighed. There were so many things he wanted to do with Extremis, and he had no idea where to start; working through a tablet didn’t make things any easy, either. It was irritating to have to keep flipping through tabs in order to work. If he had access to holographic displays here, the work would have gone much faster, but since Pepper had forbidden him from doing serious work down here after one too many injuries, there was no way to access it unless he called in contractors and rebuilt everything. He would have to suffer in silence.

Well, if he couldn’t think of where to start, he could think about what he _needed_ Extremis to do. The armor needed to be portable and lightweight – fast to strike and fast to block; everything else was sprinkles on the Extremis Sunday. He spent a few minutes adding in a commented out section of code and toyed with the idea of adding nanites into the control module to increase reaction time, before he grew restless and closed everything down.

What should he do now?

Hm. Well, he hadn’t peeked at the files he had helped Natasha recover from Hydra yet, and that was a damn shame. What had they found? Damn it! Now he needed to know. Just because he couldn’t go with the team on their next Hydra hunt, didn’t mean he could slack off and stay oblivious to what was going on.

He skimmed through Hydra’s files, pausing to review SHIELD’s notes. There was a lot of garbage here, but every once in a while he would find something useful. From what he could see, Hydra had been moving around the world for years now, lurking in the shadows of the shell corporations they had created to keep themselves afloat. The Skull had been investing his assets, and while the money had appeared as if by magic, he had been getting good returns and drawn very little attention. That certainly explained the equipment they had seen in the Skull’s compound. Hydra wasn’t as rich as, say, _McDonalds_ , but they were well off. The money, however, wasn’t going to be around for long – at least not the bulk of it, at any rate; SHIELD had started confiscating the funds and assets they knew about, and Hydra’s offshore bank accounts were next on their hit list.

Tony ran a trace on the money, following the path SHIELD’s forensic accountants had made and then veered off on his own; it was easy to spot where the money had gone even though it sometimes seemed things were purchased and sold at random. He lost the trail in Madripoor, and swore. The last chunk of change had been withdrawn piecemeal; it was hard to track multiple cash transactions in the city but it was damn near impossible to track them in Madripoor. That was kind of Madripoor’s _thing_ , after all. People didn’t go there for the year-round summertime weather; they came for the anonymity, easy access to drugs, prostitution, violence and last but not least, the wonderful money laundering services.

“Send the results to SHIELD,” Tony grumbled, setting his tablet down on his lap. “God, I hate Madripoor,”

“Message sent and duly noted sir,” Jarvis said. “Would you like me to get the nurse to bring you lunch?”

Tony glared down at his growling stomach. “Fine, but I’m not going to enjoy it,”

 

 

Tony woke to the smell of fresh cookies. He opened his eyes slowly and squinted as he looked around the room, suspicious of the tantalizing smell. Usually when things smelled like cookies, it was because Pepper had brought out her candles again to coax him out of the workshop. Needless to say, he now had trust issues when it came to freshly baked cookies.

Steve locked eyes with him and smiled tiredly. He looked like he was ready drop face first into the lovely looking plate of chocolate chip cookies he held in his hands. He yawned and slumped a little in his chair. “Hey,”

“I think this is the best wake up I’ve had,” Tony said, grinning. “Are those for me?”

“Yep,” Steve said, blinking sleepily. “Bucky made them, but he didn’t want to drop them off so he sent me down instead,”

“Bucky _bakes_?” Tony stared suspiciously at the cookies. “I hope he didn’t learn from Natasha,”

Steve snorted out a laugh. “He’s known how to bake ever since we were kids. My Ma taught him some stuff and the rest he picked up when he worked at a bakery in during the summer.” Steve looked down at the cookies, his expression turning wistful. “It’s the same recipe she used to use all those years ago, aside from the chocolate chips,”

“He remembered it?” Tony asked.

“He remembered _most_ of it. I helped fill in the blanks so no one would die of food poisoning,” Steve chuckled. He set the plate down on the overtable. “They’re good – you should try them before they get cold,”

Tony reached out and took a cookie; they were warm, likely fresh from the oven. He bit into it and nodded appreciatively, chewing away while trying not to drool all over himself when he was hit by an unexpected wave of flavor. He hadn’t had cookies like these since Jarvis – the human butler, Jarvis – had made them for him. Clearly Natasha really _hadn’t_ had a hand in making these after all. That was good to know.

“I’m assuming that means you like them,” Steve chuckled. He yawned into his hand again, and slumped forwards, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I take it you had a long day?” Tony asked through another mouthful of mouth-watering cookie.

“I’ve been to the mall before, but today was _bad_ ,” Steve sighed. “We went through almost every damn clothing store in the place and there were people _everywhere_. It was like they didn’t have anything better to do,”

“Well, it is a Saturday,” Tony snickered, picking up another cookie. “There isn’t really much to do outside of going to the mall when you live in the city. It’s free, and somewhat entertaining,”

“It’s _loud_ ,” Steve grumbled. “It seemed like every damn person on the planet was following us everywhere we went – and every time we tried to pass someone, they’d slow down! Every line we got near grew twice as long. Hell, when we tried to grab some lunch, we couldn’t even hear each other over the other people.”

“That’s why you grab take-out and run like the wind for the door the second you’re done,”

“I wish I’d thought about that earlier,” Steve groaned. He ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a long sigh. “Well, at least the shopping’s done for now. I think I’m going to enjoy never going to the mall again,”

Tony chuckled. “You’re saying that now, but you haven’t seen the Boxing Day sales or Black Friday. You’ll learn to fear the mall, grasshopper,”

“I take it those are the days with the big sales?”

“Bingo,” Tony said, taking another cookie. “You only go to those sales if you’re willing to risk life and limb.”

“Remind me never to go to the mall when that’s happening,”

“Oh, I won’t need to remind you,” Tony chuckled. “You’ll know when it happens, believe me,”

“Great,” Steve sighed. “I’m suddenly a lot happier we finished shopping today.”

“What did you end up getting him? Did you buy him some fancy-schmansy clothing? Or did he bite you and run off to the hide in the camping section?”

“He was very well behaved,” Steve said, quirking a smile. “I think he got pretty close to biting someone, though. We were both a little thrown by how hard it was to shop for people my size these days. He made out alright though. He’s got a bunch of new dress clothes and casual stuff that doesn’t look like it came out of my closet.”

“He was borrowing your stuff?” Tony hadn’t noticed Bucky wearing any of Steve’s things, but then again it wasn’t as if he knew everything in Steve’s closet. He wasn’t _that_ obsessive.

“Well, it wasn’t like it fit _me_ anymore,” Steve said, bitterly. “I had to buy some new stuff too,”

“You’ll grow back into your stuff eventually,” Tony said, softly. If he was in Steve’s position, he would have been just as annoyed. Getting new clothes was a hassle, and worse yet, yet another reminder that something had gone terribly wrong. Personally, he thought Steve was adorable no matter how he looked, but Steve didn’t seem to feel the same way. He wished there was something he could say to make things better for Steve.

“I didn’t want to get anything at _all_ ,” Steve muttered, scowling at the floor. “Bucky’s the one who convinced me I needed to at least get a few pairs of underwear and pants.”

“Ah, yes,” Tony said, nodding knowingly. “Hard to wear the same undies if they don’t fit,”

Steve put his face in his hands. “You have no idea,”

Tony chuckled. “Well, at least you have new ones now. You can always take them outside and light them on fire when you turn back,”

Steve snorted. “Right,”

“You’re going to turn back, Steve,” Tony said, softly. “I know you are. You’ll be fine,”

“I don’t feel _fine_ ,” Steve snapped. He sighed again and turned his gaze back to the floor, glaring at it as though it had mocked him. “I hate being this small,” he said in a small voice.

Tony wasn’t sure what to say. He knew what it was like to be small, but he had never been as small as Steve was right now. He had grown up illness free; Steve had suffered most of his life. Instead of speaking, he took Coulson’s advice and simply listened.

“They benched me too,” Steve said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What? Why?” Tony asked, startled by the admission. “You’re _small_ – not crippled,”

“Fury says I’m a liability in the field,” Steve spat. “I disagreed, but he said that no one in their right mind was going to let me out on the field in my ‘condition’.” Steve clenched his fists. “They’re calling it a _condition_ – like I’ve got some kind of fucking _disease_ ,”

“They’re assholes,”

“They’re right,” Steve said, standing up. He wiped at his face and then gestured to his body, as though presenting something horrible. “Look at me,” he said. “I’m _pathetic_. I know all the moves and I can still fight, but I can’t keep up anymore. I’ve tried – I keep going to the gym and sparring, but I’m not getting any better. I guess I should just be grateful that Natasha isn’t going easy on me,”

“You’re lucky then,” Tony said, winking at Steve. “I’m pretty sure she goes easy on me all the time.”

That startled a laugh out of Steve.

“Hey,” Tony said, faking seriousness.

Steve’s eyes watered harder. He let out another startled laugh, wrapping his arms around his middle to steady himself. “You always know the right thing to say,” he said, wiping at his eyes.

“I wish,” Tony chuckled. “I think most days I think I have a seventy percent chance of putting my foot in my mouth every time I open it.”

Steve smiled. “Bucky’s really lucky,”

Tony squinted at Steve. “Why is that, exactly?”

Steve shrugged. “No reason.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m going to head back up,” he said. “I’ve got a bunch of laundry to do, and just between you and me, I’m the only one on my floor who can operate the washing machine without Jarvis’ help,”

Tony snorted and reached for another cookie. “Don’t stay up too late having all that fun,”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’ll try,” he said dryly. “Try not to eat all the cookies in one sitting,”

“In that case, I think we’re both screwed,” Tony said, saluting Steve with a cookie.

Steve laughed and walked out the door.

 

 

_The room around him was cold and familiar; he could see the Skull standing in the distance behind an empty silver table. The light was directly behind him, so all Tony could see of the Skull’s face was the vaguest outline of his sharply chiseled features. Still, Tony knew the man in front of him, and he knew where he was. He was in the examination room and they were waiting for him so they could start._

_He wasn’t restrained. His feet were bare and cold. He turned, looking for a way out but couldn’t see anything other than cement walls. He turned when he heard something whirring behind him and caught a whiff of antiseptic and blood. He looked around the room again, frantic to find a place to hide and saw that Steve was on the table._

_The child looked terrified, his face scrunched up. He thrashed in his restraints; his wrists and ankles were scraped raw from fighting and there were bloody patches on him where his skin had been sliced away. A group of faceless men and women in scrubs circled Steve like vultures, their gloved hands painted red with the child’s blood._

_Tony ran forwards and opened his mouth to tell them to leave Steve alone; suddenly it wasn’t there wasn’t a child on the table. It was Steve still, but now he was an adult. There was no serum in his veins and yet the Skull’s minions continue to take their samples, using the drill and scrapers at their leisure._

_Tony could smell urine in the air; he could feel blood splattering his cheeks –_

 

Tony woke screaming.

He looked around wildly, afraid that the Skull might appear from the shadows; his muscles were tense, seemingly frozen in position. He panted as sweat dripped down the back of his neck, realizing belatedly that he was hanging off the edge of his bed. His shoulder ached bitterly; he eased himself upright and tried to lie down in bed again, hoping that he hadn’t woken the nurse. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and tried to catch his breath. He could still see Steve’s face; he could still hear Steve screaming – the _kid_ , screaming. He let out a shuddered sob and held his face in his hands.

Footsteps in the hallway made him tense again. He took in a deep breath through his nose and turned, sure he was about to come face to face with the Skull.

The lights flickered and turned on.

Steve stood framed in the doorway, his hand hovering above the light switch on the wall beside him. “Tony?” he called out, his voice soft and soothing. “Are you alright?”

Tony sobbed and sagged against his pillows; he was trembling all over now. “Shit,”

Steve crept closer slowly, as though he might startle Tony again if he moved too fast. “Are you alright?” He froze at Tony’s bedside. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing – just a nightmare,” Tony managed to get out. He wanted to burrow under his blankets, but the dull throbbing ache in his shoulder made it clear he needed to stay still, at least for a few more minutes. He tried to smile up at Steve, but couldn’t hold the expression up for long.

Steve sat down on the edge of the bed, inching closer until the side of his leg was pressed up against Tony’s. He reached out and fiddled with the blanket where it lay crumpled around Tony’s hip.

Tony grabbed Steve’s hand and started tugging him gently towards him.

Steve’s eyes widened. “Tony,”

“Can you stay?” Tony asked. He hesitated, unwilling to pull Steve any closer until he knew it was something Steve wanted. He let go of Steve’s hand and lifted up the edge of the blanket, making room beside him in case Steve decided to stick around.

He was in luck.

“Alright. It’s ok. I’ll stay,” Steve murmured. He heaved himself up onto the mattress, kicking off his slippers and slid under the blankets, settling with his cheek pressed up against Tony’s good shoulder. “It’s fine Tony. It was just a dream,” he said, rubbing soft circles on Tony’s belly.

Tony wrapped his arm around Steve, holding on as tightly as he dared; he begged whatever gods were up there to let him stay like this, with Steve in his arms. “Thanks,” he mumbled, still trembling ever-so-slightly. His fear was fading, as was the Skull’s face. It had felt so damn real – but it wasn’t, he reminded himself. It was just a dream – no, not a dream – a nightmare. The Skull wasn’t here, and Steve was fine. The Skull wouldn’t ever get his hands on Steve again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Steve asked.

“No,” Tony said, closing his eyes. He squeezed Steve a little tighter, moving until he was on his side, face to face with Steve. His shoulder was going to hurt, but it was worth it; the room was too cold without Steve, and he couldn’t stand the thought of being cold again.

Steve stirred beside Tony, shifting until the blankets were up around both of their shoulders. “I have nightmares too,”

“Oh?” Tony mumbled.

“Usually it’s about the trenches,” Steve said, letting his arm wrap around Tony’s hip. “It’s always cold in my dreams. What’s it like in yours?”

“It’s cold,” Tony said, trying not to dredge up images of that goddamned room all over again. “Most of the time there’s water around somewhere – I can always smell it – but tonight it was cold,”

“Are there people – in your nightmares, I mean,” Steve asked carefully.

“Sometimes,”

“Are there people in yours?”

“Always,”

“People who died?”

“Sometimes. Most of the time they’re people I knew – people who I left behind,” Steve said. “On the upside, the ones I used to have – the ones that ended with Bucky falling to his death – don’t happen so much anymore,”

“That’s good,”

“It’s a nice change,” Steve agreed. “It would be even nicer if the nightmares went away altogether, but I guess I just have to take what I can get,”

“I wish mine would go away,” Tony muttered. He rested his forehead against Steve’s and spent a few minutes carding his fingers through Steve’s soft hair. It was strangely soothing; he hadn’t been close like this with anyone in a long time. If there had been one good thing to take away from the days spent in captivity, it was this. He was comfortable with Steve being close. He knew the closeness wouldn’t last, but for now, it was enough. He let out a huffed sigh.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Steve asked.

Tony closed his eyes. You can stay here with me forever, he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. “This is good. You being here – that’s good,”

“Ok,” Steve said. He yawned into Tony’s shoulder. “I came down here to get the cookie plate,”

“I guess it’s a good thing I ate them all then, huh?” Tony chuckled.

“Sure, Tony,”

“Can you stay for the rest of the night?” Tony asked, tentatively. If Steve was supposed to bring the cookie plate upstairs, he might not be able to stay, and more than anything, he needed Steve here, at least for a few more minutes.

“I’m sure the plate can wait until morning,” Steve mumbled. He snuggled closer, pressing his cheek against Tony’s chest, and let out a soft yawn before pressing himself into the soft fabric of Tony’s shirt; he probably didn’t know he was doing it, because a few seconds later, he was sound asleep, snoring into Tony’s chest.

Tony closed his eyes and let sleep take him again.

 

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony hated being woken up by strangers....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part to this update should be happening sometime tomorrow night ; ) Let me know if anything weird is in here!

“Get up,”

Tony jerked awake, scrambling to get free from his blankets; his eyes widened when he saw someone looming over him. For a moment he was blinded by the light shining above the enemy and he thought he was back in his nightmare from the night before. Terrified, he turned, curling protectively around Steve hoping that his vision would either clear or that he would wake. 

It wasn’t an enemy standing over them, he realized when he finally turned back to face the intruder; it wasn’t a dream either. He didn’t appreciate the wakeup call even if he did now know that both he and Steve were safe and unlikely to be bludgeoned to death. 

Bucky scowled down at Tony, his hands on his hips. He was barefoot and dressed in Iron Man pajamas that were rumpled and damp with sweat. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy; he glanced down at Tony, his lips curled in displeasure. “Get up,” he repeated, giving the hospital bed a sharp nudge with his knee.

Steve sat bolt upright and looked around wildly, his eyes wide and fearful. He caught sight of who was speaking and paled. “ _ Bucky _ ,”

“Natasha says you’re supposed to go back to SHIELD for another round of tests,” Bucky growled, clearly not in the mood to make small talk. “They think they found a way to change you back.” Despite the good news, Bucky’s expression remained sullen. He snorted and nodded at Steve, practically glaring at him. “Well, at least _someone_ got to sleep last night,”

Steve swallowed hard. He scrambled up and out of bed, sliding across the floor on his knees to retrieve his slippers. He didn’t bother putting them on; he tucked them under his arm and made a break for the hallway, his face deathly pale.

Tony sat up stiffly. He had never seen Steve look so upset before, and it hurt to see him like that – especially when he couldn’t run out after him. “What the fuck was _that all about_?” he snapped.

“What?” Bucky growled. “I didn’t do anything,”

“Yes you fucking did! You glared at him!” Tony roared.

“No I didn’t!”

“You _yelled_ at him and you _glared_ at him!”

“I was just screwing around!” Bucky snapped.

“No you weren’t! You were giving him shit for falling asleep down here with me!”

“Well, so what if I was! He knows I didn’t mean anything by it! I give him shit all the time! That doesn’t mean I’m mad at him!”

“Did you not _see_ the look on his face? He looked like he was running away from a goddamned ghoul!” Tony snapped. “Or did you miss the part when he _ran away_?”

“Well that’s not my fault he ran!” Bucky retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes it is! It’s your fault! You came in here and scared the piss out of both of us! I didn’t appreciate that either! You can’t just _do_ shit like that!”

“Whatever,” Bucky growled, turning for the door. “Natasha wanted me to deliver a message – I delivered her fucking message. I’m done here,”

“Don’t you walk away from me! You need to fix this, Barnes, because I swear to god if you fuck with him, or you break him, I will _end_ you – even if it means spending the rest of my life in prison,” Tony growled dangerously. He didn’t care that he was injured, or that Bucky could easily strangle him without breaking a sweat. He wasn’t going to let anyone treat Steve badly – not now and not ever!

Bucky sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, finally looking shamefaced. He shuffled in place, glancing around the room as thought searching for an escape hatch or perhaps a cannon to shoot himself out of. After a few seconds he seemed to realize what he was doing. He glared at the floor. His expression turned haunted, like he had seen something he shouldn’t have seen. “It’s not Steve’s fault,” he muttered softly. “I just had a really shitting morning,”

“Well, Steve doesn’t know that, so why don’t you enlighten him?” Tony grumbled, not wanting to let Bucky go easily. He could tell that the guy had had his share of problems that morning, but it didn’t excuse his behavior. “Better yet, why don’t you enlighten _me_ , because I’d sure as hell like to know why you though it was a good idea to come down here instead of just leaving a message with Jarvis,”

“I needed to talk with someone,” Bucky growled. “I woke up alone and I was mad. Sue me,”

“So you came to take it out on Steve?” Tony snorted. “That’s nice,”

“No! I don’t know – I was just mad, alright? I was mad and I came down here because I needed to see Steve,”

“Maybe you should have thought a little before you came down here,” Tony said.

“Yeah, well, don’t sound so high and mighty there, _pal_! I bet you snap at people too when you’re pissed off too,” Bucky grumbled.

“Yeah, no shit – I snap at people. It happens, but that doesn’t mean you get to take it out on the people you care about!”

“Well why don’t you try waking up after getting a whole fifteen minutes worth of sleep only to find that the resident demigod managed to polish off the five dozen cookies you made the night before! You’d be fucking pissed off too!” Bucky snarled. “I had _one_ fucking good thing to look forward to today, and now it’s gone!”

“ _Cookies_? You chewed Steve out over a bunch of _cookies_ – ones that he didn’t even _eat_? I can’t believe you!” Tony said, clenching his fists. He wanted to rip the pillow out from under him and whip it at Bucky’s head. All of this was because of some _cookies_?

“Yeah well, I wanted a fucking cookie after spending the night with the Winter Soldier breathing down my goddamned neck,” Bucky hissed, his voice cracking.

Tony flinched. Please let the Winter Soldier stay gone, he thought. Please. He wasn’t so sure he could handle the stress of that monster rearing its head again – not now that he was so used to Bucky being, well, for lack of a better word, _Bucky_.

Bucky breathed out sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, alright? There. I said it. I’m sorry.” He collapsed onto the bed beside Tony, fitting himself into the spot Steve had so hastily deserted, rolling in the warmth left behind. “I hate _nightmares_ ,”

Tony sighed and slumped back against the pillows. _This_ was something he could deal with; he wasn’t the best with emotions, but he was well versed in nightmares.

“I was going to talk to Steve about it,” Bucky grunted, “But since he was otherwise engaged, that didn’t go as planned,”

“So you snapped at him because he wasn’t there to listen?”

“I don’t know _why_ I snapped at him,” Bucky said with a sigh. “He wouldn’t have been able to help anyways,”

“Oh?”

“It’s not like he can wipe them out. It wasn’t a bad dream – it was a bunch of memories,” Bucky said, closing his eyes. He shuddered and rolled a little to his left so he could pull the blankets out from under him. He tucked them around himself, as though he was suddenly freezing despite the warmth in the room. Tony didn’t particularly appreciate the fact that they were now pressed together hip to hip but he could tell that it seemed to give Bucky some kind of comfort so he reigned in the urge to tell Bucky to fuck off.

Bucky started crying. It was surreal to see. Tony had seen the guy naked, and beaten to a pulp, but somehow seeing him in tears felt a thousand times worse; he was watching something private, and there was nothing he could do to give Bucky any privacy. Tony squirmed uncomfortably under the covers.

“You were dreaming about being the Winter Soldier?” Tony asked.

Bucky let out a soft sob, muffling it with his arm. “Fuck,” he said, wiping wildly at his face. He slammed his fist into the mattress. “ _Fuck_!”

Tony hesitated and then rolled over onto his side and reached out, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky tensed at first, but after a few seconds of Tony’s being wrapped around him, he relaxed. His breathing evened out; his sobs died down into sniffles.

“I haven’t told him what I did yet,” Bucky murmured, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

“He has the file, doesn’t he?” Tony asked. “He probably already knows,”

“Oh he has the file alright,” Bucky said with a sob. He tried to muffle it with his arm, but it didn’t help. “He says he doesn’t want to read it until I’m ready to tell him about it,”

Tony sighed wearily. That sounded just like Steve; the guy probably wouldn’t push to find anything out, either. Steve was probably planning on sitting back and waiting for Bucky to own up to what he had done.

“Does he know about the Winter Soldier?” Tony asked carefully. It was one thing to read reports – it was another to know what the Winter Soldier really, truly was.

“He knows the codename and gets that it was me,” Bucky said, wiping at his eyes again.

“Does he know what happened at the Beach House?”

“No,”

“How can he _not_ know _that_?” Tony sighed. He moved to pull away from Bucky and then stilled when he realized that Bucky was crying again. He shifted slowly, making sure to not overextend his sore shoulder, and leaned closer again. “I’m not saying what happened was your fault, Bucky. It’s not. You weren’t in control back there,”

“I know that,” Bucky said, miserably. He curled in on himself, his large frame turning impossibly small. “I don’t know what to do. What the fuck am I supposed to say to him? How am I supposed to tell my _best friend_ that I used to murder people for a living?”

“Well, you could start with the whole you were brainwashed thing,” Tony said, softly. “You _aren’t_ the Winter Soldier – you didn’t have a choice then, but you do now,”

“But it _was_ me! I pulled the trigger every fucking time! I remember all of it,” Bucky said, burying his face in his hands. “I _did_ all of it! It was me!”

“But you didn’t _want_ to do it,” Tony said, softly. He didn’t think he would ever have it in himself to forgive the Winter Soldier directly, but _Bucky_ wasn’t the Winter Soldier – and he needed to hear that; Bucky needed to hear the truth. “You’re not him. You’re Bucky Barnes – you are _not_ the Winter Soldier.”

Bucky closed his eyes and wiped at his nose on his sleeve. “If you tell anyone I was crying, I’ll box your ears,”

“Uh huh,” Tony chuckled. He patted Bucky’s shoulder and rolled over again so he could lean back against his pillows and give his shoulder a rest. “I hate to spoil the mood, but you’re going to have to talk to Steve _today_ , you know that right?”

“No shit,” Bucky grumbled.

“He needs to hear _everything_ whether you think it’s a good idea or not,”

“He’ll hate me. Christ – _I_ fuckinghate me,”

“He’ll forgive you,”

“He won’t,”

“He will,” Tony insisted, ruffling Bucky’s hair.

Bucky rolled over onto his back and glowered at Tony before resting his head on the same pillow Tony was using He picked at the blankets with his cybernetic arm as he tried to think of something to say, the movements slow and clumsy. Tony couldn’t hear the servos grinding but he could tell that something was wrong with the arm.

“What did you do?” Tony hissed, grabbing Bucky by the cybernetic arm. He turned the arm over, feeling along the joints and fingers. _Shit_! What had the bastard done to his beautiful arm! Sure, it had been a prototype, but look at it! There were _scratches_ all over the place – and oh! _Oh_! There was a _dent_! Jesus Christ! How the hell had Bucky managed to dent one of his fucking _fingers_?

Bucky shivered and turned his face away, scowling at the doorway. “It’s fine. I banged it – that’s all,”

“On what? A fucking _tank_?” Tony growled, examining the seams in the arm’s fingers and wrists. Everything seemed to be functional, but there were scrapes on the hand’s knuckles, and a few on the side of the thumb.

“I can feel _that_ , you know,” Bucky mumbled, his cheeks going faintly pink. It was an interesting look on him, Tony thought. He wondered how many people had seen Bucky Barnes well and truly embarrassed. He had a feeling there was only a handful of people left alive who had, and Steve was probably the only person who wasn’t uncomfortable seeing it.

“Yeah, well,” Tony grumbled, sliding his fingers along the dents in the cybernetic arm’s forearm, “That’s the price you pay for messing up my tech,”

“It’s _my_ arm,” Bucky grumbled.

“Nope. I made it,” Tony snorted. “It’s mine now,”

“Well it’s attached to _me_ ,”

“That’s nice. It’s still mine,” Tony said, scowling at a scratch. “What did you do? Did you get into a fist fight with a porcupine or something?”

Bucky chuckled and closed his eyes. He let out a sigh as Tony made his way further up his arm and grimaced when Tony’s fingers brushed his side. “Quit it,” he squeaked, batting at Tony’s hand.

“What’s wrong?” Tony teased. “Don’t tell me you’re _ticklish_ ,”

Bucky squashed his arm against his side, neatly trapping Tony’s fingers before they could move towards his armpit. “Don’t even _think_ about it, Stark,” he growled.

“Oh _please_ ,” Tony snorted, worming his now numb fingers free. “I’m not _that_ big of a baby.” He went back to feeling his way up Bucky’s arm, frowning at every last scratch and ding he found there. He hadn’t made the prototype arm any stronger than what Bucky had been wandering around with when they had first met him and it had seemed strong, but unsurprisingly it wasn’t as good as his tech. Oh well. At least it was durable; it had held up well, all things considered.

“I don’t like people touching my arm,” Bucky growled as Tony ran his thumb over the red star on the cybernetic arm’s shoulder. He yanked his arm free from Tony’s grasp and curled it around his middle, glaring at Tony over his shoulder.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Tony sighed. “I need to look at it,”

“I don’t like it – so don’t fucking do it,” Bucky snapped, tensing under the covers. “If you try to take it off I’m going to hit you,”

Tony held his hand up slowly. “I’m not going to disconnect it,” he said. He knew what it was like to be afraid of having things ripped off of him; he couldn’t blame Bucky for being uncomfortable. The arc reactor made him feel the same way.

Bucky relaxed slightly.

“Are you still going to hit me?” Tony asked. He didn’t actually want to get clubbed in the head by accident or intentionally, but he needed to know for sure what to expect. He knew it had taken quite a while for Coulson, Natasha and Clint to get Bucky’s arm off back at the Beach House, but he didn’t exactly have the numbers on how long it had taken or what they had had to do to get it off – aside from drugging the hell out of Bucky, of course.

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t want to club you, I just… it’s a _reflex_. It hurts and I tend to smack shit that hurts me,”

“Alright – I get that,” Tony said, nodding. There wasn’t a whole lot of pain management in the arm from what he had seen of the cerebral chip’s coding, but he hadn’t thought the Red Room would be cruel enough to ignore the fact that the arm would have to come off eventually – even if it was just for maintenance. The thought of putting anyone through something excruciating on purpose made Tony’s stomach roil. He rubbed unconsciously at the arc reactor, all too aware of its weight. Getting the arm off was going to be tricky then, unless they had some kind of restraints to work with. He was about to suggest them when Bucky started speaking again.

“They used to put me in the chair when they had to do upgrades,” Bucky said, his voice going deathly flat. “It had straps on it so I couldn’t hurt anyone. I hate that chair,”

Great. Tony gritted his teeth. Well, there went the restraints; that idea was shot to shit. He wasn’t going to be strapping Bucky to _anything_ – not if that was what the Red Room had done.

“Well, I don’t have a chair down in my workshop,” Tony said, carefully. He had chairs down there alright, but nothing like the one Bucky was describing. “So don’t worry about it, alright? We’ll figure something out when the time comes,”

“I can take it off for you,” Bucky grunted. “It doesn’t feel as bad when I do it myself,”

“Are you sure? I can always get Bruce to give you a sedative or something,”

“I don’t want any fucking sedatives. They make things all fuzzy and I can’t deal with that again. I’d rather it hurt,” Bucky murmured.

“Alright,” Tony said. He gestured to Bucky’s shoulder, making sure his movements were slow and visible. “Can I get a look at your shoulder – pretty please?”

“Do you have to?” Bucky grunted.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Tony said. “I need to see the joints. I don’t want to risk fucking anything up on the new arm if the main connection point isn’t working properly,”

Bucky perked up. “You have the new one ready?”

Tony scowled and pulled the blankets down Bucky’s arm, wishing he could ignore the question entirely. “It’s still in manufacturing – You can see it later if I’m feeling energetic,”

“They’re letting you out tomorrow morning,” Bucky said, sounding hopeful. “You could calibrate it then,”

“I could, huh?” Tony chuckled. He lifted the cybernetic arm and tested the way the metal joints moved, pleased to see that despite the damage to the rest of the arm, the main joint and socket were functioning the way they were supposed to. Even the Red Room’s scientists had known better than to make _this_ connection point weak. He cringed inwardly when he thought about all the surgery that had likely happened in order to get the arm in place. Cybernetic implants didn’t just grow on trees after all, and they sure as hell weren’t made out of cotton candy and hugs. He reminded himself to be gentle with Bucky tomorrow when he put the new arm on. He didn’t want to create a new _bad_ memory – not now that Bucky was himself again. The last thing Tony wanted to do now was to accidentally turn the Winter Soldier back on by traumatizing him.

Bucky let out a huffed laugh when Tony felt his way along the line in the shoulder where flesh met metal. “Do you have to do _that_?”

“I’m checking for infection,” Tony muttered. “Stop fussing, and it’ll go a lot faster,”

“ _You_ stop fussing,” Bucky grumbled, glaring at Tony again. “The surgery was years ago – it’s not going to start acting up _now_.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony growled, “I’d rather not take that chance. Steve would kill me,”

Bucky’s glare softened. He rolled his shoulder when Tony was finished checking him over and closed his eyes again, lying limp against the pillows.

“So Thor ate all of your cookies, huh?” Tony said, not knowing what else to say. It felt weird to be in bed with _Bucky_ , of all people. He wondered what Clint would do if he walked in on them like this. He had a feeling nothing he said would get that rat bastard to stop laughing.

“I was surprised I could find the plate when he was done,” Bucky muttered. “I didn’t even see any crumbs. It was like he just opened his mouth and inhaled everything,”

“I’m assuming you yelled at him,”

“He said he was sorry,” Bucky snorted. “Can you believe that? He claimed he would bring me back a barrel of Asgardian mead – whatever the fuck that shit is – and then he jumped out a window and flew off with that hammer of his,”

Tony chuckled. “You’re in for a treat then,” he said, looking around for his tablet. “I’ve had some of his mead before. The smell of it alone will knock you on your ass,”

“Good,” Bucky muttered. “I think I’m going to enjoy that.”

“You’re still going to have to apologize to Steve, even if you’re drunk off your ass,” Tony said dryly.

“He’s used to my drunk apologies by now,” Bucky said. He pulled the blankets up above his shoulder again, ignoring the exasperated look Tony sent his way. “Wake me up when Steve comes back,”

“Fine,” Tony grumbled. He spotted his tablet and snatched it off of the overtable. He leaned back, checking on the new arm’s progress to make sure things were running smoothly. He might be trapped here with Bucky, but at least he could still work. And hell, breakfast would arrive eventually – all he had to do was wait for it.

 

 

Steve never did come back that day and by the time night rolled around, Tony’s calls were going straight to voicemail. Tony frowned down at his Starkphone, wondering if he should start organizing a search party. Natasha had returned from SHIELD HQ over five hours ago, and Steve had been conspicuously absent. She had stopped by to give Tony the bad news – SHIELD’s attempts had yet again failed – and had headed out to grab dinner. She hadn’t said anything about where Steve had wandered off to and when he had tried to ask she had given him a dark look and told him to figure it out for himself.

“He’s probably just mooning around because the lab rats couldn’t make their fix work,” Bucky said. He was still camped out in Tony’s bed despite Tony’s glares, and was lying squashed up against the safety rails; the jerk had put them up himself after nearly rolling out of bed during a rather terrifying-to-watch nightmare. Bucky looked a little better now that he had gotten some sleep, but his eyes were still a little scary to look at. Bloodshot eyes never had been very attractive to Tony.

“I’ve phoned him ten times now,” Tony grumbled, setting his Starkphone down on the overtable. He prodded his tablet, watching the timer count down to the completion of Bucky’s new arm. “I think if I dial again, he’s going to change his number,”

“Leave him alone then. If he wants to talk, he’ll come to talk,” Bucky said, snuggling against the pillows. “He’s sulking. Just give him some alone time,”

“He’s alone and Hydra is still out there,” Tony growled, “I think I have the right to be worried about him not answering his phone for five hours,”

“Well, calling him _eleven_ times isn’t going to make him pick up,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, but it would make me feel better if he did,” Tony sighed. He didn’t want to worry like this. Steve was a grown man who could take care of himself – serum or no serum – but that didn’t mean Tony couldn’t worry.

“He’ll call back when he wants to talk,” Bucky drawled.

“Has he called _you_ yet?” Tony asked.

“I don’t know,” Bucky grunted. “My phone’s upstairs, remember?”

“Jarvis?” Tony grunted. “Has Steve called _anyone_?”

“Captain Rogers’ phone is on, but he has not used it. Would you like me to track his GPS?” Jarvis asked.

Tony hesitated for a micro-second before giving the order. “Fuck it – look him up,”

Bucky sighed. “He’s going to be pissed that you’re spying on him,”

“It’s not _spying_ ,” Tony muttered. “He could be lying in a ditch for all we know. I’m just checking up on him. Don’t lie and tell me you didn’t do that when you guys were younger,”

“I kept an eye on him alright, but I didn’t poke my face into his business unless it was an emergency,” Bucky muttered.

“Jarvis? Where is he?” Tony asked, ignoring the dirty look Bucky sent him.

“Captain Rogers is currently sitting in Java Storm’s Cafe and has been there for the past three hours,” Jarvis said.

“He’s actually there? You’ve seen him?”

“I took the liberty of turning on the phone’s cameras to get visual confirmation,” Jarvis said. “He appears to be fine, albeit unhappy,”

“Alright,” Tony said, letting out his breath in a long slow hiss. “Ok. He’s fine then. If he’s fine, I’ll just leave him alone,”

“An excellent decision, sir,” Jarvis said dryly. “Might I suggest you get dinner now?”

Bucky sat up slowly, cracking his back. He stretched out and eased himself out from under the blankets. “How much time’s left on my new arm?” he asked, standing up.

“There are two hours of build time remaining,” Jarvis said, answering before Tony could.

“ _Great_ ,” Tony muttered, glaring down at his tablet.

Bucky patted Tony’s shoulder. “I’ll grab us something to eat and then we can get to work,”

“Sure,” Tony said. He watched Bucky leave and then turned his glare on Jarvis. “Thanks a lot! Now I have to put his stupid arm on!”

“I thought that was the point, sir,” Jarvis said. “You have been talking about being, and I quote, ‘done with his goddamned piece of shit arm’ for the past few days. Was I wrong in assuming you wished to hurry?”

“No, you’re not wrong,” Tony grumbled, flopping back against the pillows. “I just didn’t want to have to do it right _fucking_ now,”

“I could inform Mr. Barnes that there has been a malfunction in the production equipment if you would like, sir,”

“Don’t bother,” Tony said. “I may as well get it over with. At least it will get me out of this bed for a little while,”

 

 

The nurse released Tony from the medical wing after Bucky spent ten minutes sweet-talking her into it; Tony wasn’t so sure if it was the sweet-talking that won her over in the end, or her general desire to be free of them both that did it, but he wasn’t complaining with the results.

Bucky helped Tony upstairs to the penthouse and together they demolished the three cartons of Chinese food Jarvis had so kindly ordered for them. They ate slowly, both too excited and nervous to chew faster.

When they were finished, they stuffed the leftovers in the fridge and then spent an hour lounging on the couch in Tony’s living room, waiting to see if Steve would finally return one of Tony’s many phone calls; they both knew they were stalling. Neither of them could work up the courage to get up off of the couch, so there they sat, watching bad TV until the phone rang. Thinking that it was Steve, Tony bolted upright and dove for his cellphone.

“Hello?” Tony rasped, wincing as pain lanced though his body. He rubbed at his tender shoulder and hoped that he hadn’t ripped open his stitches.

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice was loud in Tony’s ear. “Are you alright? Did I call at a bad time?”

Tony sagged against the couch. “No, it’s alright Pep. I was just hoping it was Steve,”

“He still hasn’t called you back yet?” Pepper asked.

“He hasn’t even checked his messages,” Tony muttered.

“Tony,” Pepper chided. “You can’t just get Jarvis to hack his phone like that,”

“I know, I know,” Tony grumbled. “I’m a horrible person – I just needed to know,”

“Look, I’d love to stay on the line and hear all about it, but my meeting’s starting up again. Don’t wait up for us, alright? Rhodey and I have dinner plans so we can talk in private about all the bad things you’ve done,” Pepper said. “I’ll call you later, alright?”

“Alright,” Tony sighed. “Have fun at dinner, _traitor_ ,”

Pepper laughed. “If I hear anything from Steve, I’ll let you know, alright?”

“Sure,” Tony said. “Eat some steak for me,”

“I will,” Pepper promised. “And get some sleep, alright? I don’t want to come home and find you bleary eyed and drunk on the couch in your underwear.”

“Me? Drunk on my own couch?” Tony scoffed. “I’d never do that. I make no promises about the underwear though. Its casual Friday and you know me,”

“I’m serious,” Pepper said quietly. “I know you’re upset – please don’t do it,”

“I won’t,” Tony said softly. “I’ve been good – I promise I’m not going to get drunk,”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Pepper said. “And don’t let Bucky get drunk either. I don’t want to find _either_ of you with lampshades on your heads when I get home,”

“Right – no liquor, and no lampshades,” Tony said. “I think we can manage that,”

“It’ll be alright, Tony,” Pepper said. “He’ll call you back and whatever it is that’s happened will work itself out,”

“I hope so,” Tony said. “Thanks – have fun at dinner,”

“I’ll try,” Pepper said. “Rhodey and Happy send their love,”

Tony smiled. “Alright. See you later,”

“Goodnight, Tony,” Pepper said.

Tony pulled the phone away from his head and set it down on the cushion between him and Bucky.

Bucky lifted up the remote. “I take it that wasn’t Steve,” he said, turning the TV off.

“Unless Steve’s suddenly become the bossy redhead who runs my company,” Tony snorted. “No. It wasn’t Steve.”

“So what do you want to do now?” Bucky asked.

“I guess we can do the arm now,” Tony grumbled. He scowled when Bucky jumped up and tossed the remote over his shoulder.

“That’s expensive, you know,” Tony said.

“So’s my arm,” Bucky said, helping Tony stand up. “Let’s go,”

Tony cast a forlorn look over his shoulder at his abandoned cellphone before allowing himself to be dragged off to the elevator.

 

 

They got out at Tony’s workshop and slowly made their way towards the manufacturing station in the left-hand corner of the room. Normally it was blocked off and left in the dark, the energy needed elsewhere, but today everything was brightly illuminated, just like the rest of the workshop.

Tony had been down here a thousand different times, but he could tell that Bucky, while having been in the workshop before, hadn’t gotten a good look at all of the machines until now. The flurry of activity at the manufacturing station was hard to ignore.

The manufacturing station took up roughly a quarter of the floor space and extended from the ceiling to the floor. It was completely sealed off from the other side of the room, and there were two panes of heavy glass in between them and the machines at all times. The station was built in segments, each chunk custom made with a different level of air filtering and sterilization in mind. Everything down here was under Jarvis’ constant supervision, but nothing went in or out without Tony keying in his personal code. The motherboards and chips he used in most of his electronics needed to be kept clean and filth free or else they would fail, so he had strict measures in place at all times. A watch failing because of a faulty chip was a shame – the suit failing was a _disaster_ and there was no way in hell he was going to risk falling out of the sky over something that stupid. The other side of his workshop was where he got his hands dirty; this was where the magic really happened.

Bucky peered through the glass as though it were the zoo and he expected something to leap out at him; Tony could tell that he was nervous, although he was hiding it well. The grin on his face was grim, and his eyes were narrowed. As they moved closer to the main airlock, their steps became slower and more even.

“See? I told you your arm was ready.” Tony tapped the glass and pointed at the robots hovering beside the first of three assembly lines. “The guys have got things covered,” he said, “I’m going to have to look it over just to be on the safe side, but I think we’re good to go. Jarvis runs a tight ship,”

“Thank you, sir,” Jarvis said, sounding pleased.

Bucky tensed when the robotic arm closest to the glass sprang to life; he shifted his stance, ready to fight even though there was a clear barrier between him and his perceived enemy. His eyes went wide when the arm turned to face him and flinched back when it gave a slight wave in his direction. “I thought you said it was safe down here?” he said, tensing again.

“It is. It’s just us down here, Bucky,” Tony said. He gritted his teeth as his shoulder was jostled for the fifth time in a row when Bucky lifted his cybernetic arm to defend himself. Tony would have stopped and caught his breath, but he had a feeling that now was not the time for a break. Instead, he carefully shifted his hand onto the small of Bucky’s back and held it there, making sure his fingers weren’t stiff and claw-like. “It’s alright, Bucky. Nothing here is going to hurt you. It’s just the machines doing their thing – they’re getting your arm ready,”

Bucky’s shoulders slumped. He seemed to come back to himself and turned to Tony, flashing him an embarrassed grin. “Sorry,”

“Don’t be,” Tony said, patting Bucky’s shoulder. “The robots can be a bit much. Rhodey was pretty freaked out the first time he saw them. You’ll get used to them.” He walked forwards, slipping out from under Bucky’s arm and ran a finger over the glass. The robotic arm across from him whirred happily and turned to face him, bumping its rubber-padded finger against the glass; it, unlike Dummy and U, had a far lower level of artificial intelligence, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t recognize him. Tony chuckled. “Yes, hello to you too. How’s the new toy? Is it nice and shiny yet?”

“Tony?” Bucky called out, glancing at the manufacturing station with trepidation. “Are you _sure_ you should be standing that close to it?”

“I’m fine, Bucky,” Tony repeated, trying not to feel frustrated by Bucky’s lack of trust.

The other machines in the assembly line slowly started moving, disappearing inside the main manufacturing unit where everything was given one last checkup. He watched the machines work, taking comfort in the soft hum they made, and wondered if now was a good time to start building a new prototype for the next suit. There was plenty of space for a new project, yes, but if he did upgrades on his armor, then he was going to have to do upgrades on _War Machine_ and _Rescue_ too – and that meant keeping enough space for three suits all together, including their prototypes. Was that a good idea? Could he pull it off? He knew he could, but he wasn’t so sure anyone was going to appreciate it if he worked himself to exhaustion again.

“Perhaps it would be better if Mr. Barnes waited for you at your desk sir?” Jarvis said with a sigh.

Tony glanced away from the manufacturing station, startled from his thoughts.

The machines had fallen silent for a moment as they prepared for their next task. Before Tony could agree with Jarvis, they whirred back to life and spun out of the way, allowing three conveyer belts to push up through the floor. Once back in position, the robotic arms set a clear plastic box down on the largest conveyer belt and watched as it drifted away. The box paused at the end of the line, resting against the first internal airlock as the robots reset their positions.

Tony looked around, surveying his workshop as if he was a stranger. He could see how it could look frightening to someone who hadn’t been puttering around here for years; to most people, airlocks meant separation, and a lot of the time people associated them with infectious disease and danger too. He sighed softly and put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, turned him around. He gave Bucky a gentle nudge towards the other side of the workshop where his desk was and turned back to the airlock and box. “Go sit down,” he said. “I’ll bring the arm over – relax a little, alright? You look like you’re trying not to throw up,”

Tony waited impatiently for the box to be pushed out into the final decompression room before reaching in and dragging it out. He pulled the new cybernetic arm free, mindful of the connection ports, and tossed the plastic box back into the airlock so it could be sanitized, superheated and melted down. He might be richer than god, but he didn’t like wasting materials.

The arm was heavy in his hands, but it wasn’t as heavy as the prototype arm had been; the alloys he had used here were different and that pinch of vibranium in it had made nice and strong. He carried it over to where Bucky was sitting, and set the arm down on his worktable before pulling a cleaning kit out from under the desk. He could feel Bucky’s eyes on him the entire time. He sighed as he set the cleaning kit down on the table beside the cybernetic arm. “ _What_?”

Bucky shrugged and stretched. “It’s nothing,”

The rolling chair Bucky had commandeered had no arms, and that seemed to be working in Tony’s favor; Bucky looked _almost_ relaxed in it. Tony bent down and locked the chair’s wheels so Bucky couldn’t roll off before turning his attention to the prototype arm still attached to Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re going to need to let me take that off at some point tonight,” he said, trying to sound breezy, like it was something he said all the time.

Bucky scowled at Tony and shook his head. “I can do it,”

“It’s going to hurt,” Tony pointed out.

“It _always_ hurts,” Bucky muttered. He rested his hand on his shoulder and then hesitated, his fingers splayed over the red star.

“We can wait until tomorrow if you want,” Tony said. “There’s no rush,”

“I’d rather do it now and get it over with,” Bucky growled. He gritted his teeth and before Tony could even offer him a muscle relaxant, he disconnected his cybernetic arm from its socket. The scream that tore from his lips made Tony jerk backwards into his worktable. The arm clattered to the ground, becoming nothing more than dead weight. Bucky leaned forwards, tears of pain welling in his eyes. He let out a strangled cry and hunched over in his chair.

“Are you alright?” Tony asked, pushing himself away from the table.

“No, I’m not _all-fucking-right_ ,” Bucky said through gritted teeth. He wrapped his hand around the shoulder connector and let out a high-pitched moan. He started trembling all over; he swayed in the chair, and Tony was glad he had thought to lock the chair’s wheels beforehand because if he hadn’t, Bucky might have toppled out of the chair.

Tony crept closer. He moved to wrap his arm around Bucky’s flesh-and-blood shoulder and was batted way.

“I’m not a fucking _baby_ ,” Bucky growled, wiping the tears from his eyes. He took in a slow, steady breath and let it out again, wincing and rubbing at his shoulder. “It hurts like a bitch, but it’s not that bad,”

“Are you sure?” Tony asked, perching on the edge of the work desk. He picked up an antiseptic wipe and tore the packaging open.

“What’s that for?” Bucky growled, his expression turning positively _feral_.

Tony held the wipe out. “I need to get the crap off the connectors,” he explained. He realized belatedly that the smell was a little too sharp and that it could be taken as something so much worse than antiseptic. Bucky grabbed Tony’s wrist and _squeezed_ ; it was a damn good thing he didn’t have the cybernetic arm attached to him anymore, because if _it_ had been that one clamped around Tony’s wrist, there wouldn’t have been much wrist left.

Tony yelped and hit the floor on his knees. The pain was sharp and sudden; it flared in his lower body first and then crept up. His vision swam. “Stop it,” Tony croaked.

Bucky froze; the fingers wrapped around Tony’s wrist slackened and eventually let go. “Shit,” he said, dropping to his knees in front of Tony. He reached out hesitantly and took Tony’s wrist in his hand again, running his fingers over the tender skin. “Steve’s going to _kill_ me,”

“Forget Steve,” Tony growled, forcing himself upright. He fought off a wave of vertigo and pulled his wrist free, rubbing at it. Well, at least something hurt more than his shoulder now; there was always _that_. “ _I’m_ going to kill you,”

Bucky hung his head as he stood, his hand moving to clutch pitifully at his stump of a shoulder.

“What the _fuck_ , Barnes?” Tony grumbled, snatching up the antiseptic before it could slither its way down the side of the table and onto the floor. He fumbled with it, nearly dropping it again when he got a whiff of it; the almost-flashback that came from the sharp scent made him back up, and the only thing that kept him from panicking was Bucky’s hand on his shoulder.

“Are you ok?” Bucky asked softly.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Tony grunted, pushing Bucky’s hand away.

Bucky kicked at the cybernetic arm, sending it skidding across the floor.

“Sit down,” Tony said, heaving a sigh. He held the wipe out to Bucky, pinching it between his fingers. “It’s fine, alright? You can check it over if you want. I can even sniff it if that’s what it’ll take,”

“No,” Bucky grumbled, brushing his hair back from his face. He sat down in the chair again. “I trust you. I just hate the smell,”

“You and me both, pal,” Tony muttered. He leaned down, rubbing the wipe against the connectors in Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky winced and wrinkled his nose.

“If this hurts, tell me now,” Tony said, scrubbing at the metal. It wasn’t as grimy as he had expected considering Bucky had simply snapped the damn prototype arm on without cleaning it. He turned the wipe over and ran it over the metal again, carefully seeking out the creases in the metal until he was sure he had every last crevice cleaned out.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Bucky muttered. “It’s just stinks,”

“Sadly, they don’t make industrial strength wipes that actually smell good – at least not in my experience,” Tony said, throwing the wipe away. He grabbed another one and wiped down the new arm’s connectors. He didn’t want to risk getting metal shavings anywhere they shouldn’t be; even if he did trust his equipment to be perfect, that didn’t always mean it ended up that way. He tossed the wipe when he was done with it and picked up the arm. This was it. The arm was going on and then he could go upstairs to get some ice for his wrist.

“So how do you want to do this?” Tony asked.

“Is it too late to say we should do this tomorrow?” Bucky chuckled, darkly.

“It’ll be fine,” Tony said. “Believe me. This one is going to be a hell of a lot easier on you.” He lifted the arm up and held it out. “Look at it – it’s pretty and it wants to go home,”

Bucky let out a shrill laugh. “Very funny,”

“So let’s do this then,” Tony said, stepping closer. He moved until his gut was bumping against Bucky’s flesh-and-blood shoulder and then leaned around behind him, with the arm held out. The strain on his injured shoulder was worse this way, but at least he wasn’t likely to get backhanded in this position. He snapped the arm in place and let it go.

Bucky ducked his head. After a few seconds he looked up at Tony, startled. “Wait – that’s it?”

Tony rolled his eyes and slapped the cybernetic arm fondly, hitting the red star on the shoulder. He hadn’t asked if Bucky was attached to it, but it had felt right to include it. “Of course that’s it. I told you I’d fix the pain receptor problems, didn’t I?”

Bucky rolled his shoulder. He wiggled his fingers, staring at them in wonder when they moved.

Tony wondered if this was the first time those movements had been completely pain free. He had disliked the Red Room on principal, but now he was starting to really loath them.

“I take it that means it’s working for you?” Tony asked.

Bucky reached out and prodded Tony in the stomach. He grinned when Tony scowled at him. “I _felt_ that,” he said, looking far too gleeful for his own good.

“Alright, _jackass_ ,” Tony sighed, rolling his eyes when Bucky prodded him in the belly again with a different finger. “Very funny. Shall we calibrate this bad boy before you end up breaking my ribs?”

Bucky grinned up at Tony. “Alright,” he said. “What do you need me to do?”

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony couldn't just sit around anymore - he was going to find Steve and figure out just what was going on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's part 2 of the update! Let me know if anything weird is in here! : )

Tony was exhausted by the time he crawled into bed. His shoulder throbbed as he pulled his heavy blankets up over his belly. He had put Bucky’s new arm through every stress test he knew and so far it was doing well; they had it calibrated, for the most part, but as with most things robotic, there were always errors to expect once the code got going. He had spotted a few little bugs already, but since Bucky had chosen to lift him in the air after they had finished going through the fifth set of drills – _for no good reason_ , he might add – he had decided to leave the bug fixes for later. Nothing he had spotted was dangerous; it could all wait. He sighed and patted his hand along his pillow to find his phone and dialed Steve’s number without even looking at it.

Steve didn’t answer.

After the second ring, it went straight to voice mail.

Tony let the phone drop onto his nightstand and settled amongst his nest of blankets. It was fine. Steve was just brooding, that was all. The guy deserved to have some time to himself. Besides – Bucky would see Steve eventually, and then he would straighten everything out. Bucky was a jerk but he wasn’t _that_ bad; he would fix things. Tony closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, imagining Steve’s weight resting against his side.

 

The next morning Tony woke just in time to feel Bucky flop down on the bed beside him. He opened one eye and squinted angrily at Bucky, still half-hidden under his blankets and a well-placed pillow. “What are you doing here?” Tony growled. “Did I say you could invade my privacy, _heathen_?”

“Steve didn’t come home last night,” Bucky said.

Tony felt like his entire body had turned to stone.

“Relax,” Bucky said, with a yawn. He patted lazily at Tony’s gut with his flesh-and-blood hand. “I had your AI check in on him and he’s fine,”

“So you talked to him?” Tony asked, hoping for the best.

“No,” Bucky grumbled. “I phoned him ten times and he didn’t even pick up _once_ ,”

“So you had Jarvis spy on him?”

“ _You_ did it yesterday,” Bucky snorted. “Don’t give me shit about it,”

“Yesterday was _different_ ,”

“How, exactly, was it different?” Bucky asked. He pulled the blankets off of Tony’s head and flipped them over, bathing him in light.

Tony hissed and tried to hide under his pillows, but it was no use. The sun was up and there was nothing he could do to avoid it now that he knew it was there. “It’s different because he isn’t my best friend – he’s my teammate,” he said. He was surprised he had managed to say that with a straight face. He made a grab for his blankets and found them woefully out of reach, trapped under Bucky’s bare feet.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right, Tony. Steve’s just your teammate. Like I believe _that_ ,”

“Whatever,” Tony grumbled, tugging his shirt back down so his belly wouldn’t freeze any more than it already had. He had fallen asleep while still fully dressed; it was probably luck alone that had kept his sheets from being covered in grease.

“So are you getting up now, or _what_?” Bucky grumbled, rolling out of bed. He rolled Tony’s blankets further away until they were only covering the tips of Tony’s toes.

“Why do I have to get up?” Tony scowled. “What did you _do_?”

“I didn’t do _anything_ ,” Bucky snorted. “Your AI told me I was supposed to get you up because you need to run more tests on my arm,”

“You’re a _bad_ liar for an ex-assassin,” Tony grumbled. He knew damn well that if Jarvis had wanted him awake, the AI would have done the dirty deed himself. He sat up and yawned into his arm. At least he had managed to get a good night’s sleep. His free time wasn’t going to last forever, even if he was still recovering from his injuries. The responsibilities he had been shirking had finally decided to catch up to him, and even with Pepper’s help he was in for a busy month; the next meeting with the Board of Directors was only two weeks away, and he still had a handful of projects to take care for SI, not to mention all of the work he still need to do to get the Beach Houses ready for construction. There wasn’t going to be much time for tinkering on new projects until everything was finished. “Alright – let’s head down to the workshop,” he said. It was better to get a move on, even if he still felt like going back to bed.

“Keep your pants on, Stark. I want to eat breakfast first,” Bucky grumbled.

“Fine,” Tony said with a sigh. Well, at least he was going to get a cup of coffee now.

 

 

Steve didn’t call Tony back that night or the next; he didn’t call Bucky back either. After five days had passed with not even a _sighting_ of Steve, Tony knew that something was wrong. He ordered Jarvis to track Steve’s comings and goings, and hoped that he was just being paranoid.

Unfortunately for him, he was right; something _was_ wrong. Steve wasn’t acting like himself. Jarvis reported everything back to Tony at the day as requested, giving Tony a play-by-play update. Steve would come back to the tower, travel up to his floor when no one else was around and change his clothing. He would disappear shortly after, slinking out of the building while actively avoiding everyone. Every day was spent the same way. Steve would creep in and creep out, occasionally taking a new sketchpad or set of pencils with him.

Tony was stunned.

Had he done something wrong?

Was Steve avoiding him? He couldn’t think of anything he had done that would provoke _this_ kind of a response. It _couldn’t_ be him, because if he had done something, he was pretty sure he would have noticed – and hell, someone would have told him by now. At the very least, Natasha would have stopped by to threaten him. That left him with one plausible reason for Steve’s behavior. Steve wasn’t avoiding _him_ – Steve was avoiding _Bucky_.

Bucky still hadn’t apologized; he had, however, tried on multiple occasions, but nothing seemed to have convinced Steve to call him back. Tony knew for a fact that Bucky had made at least twenty seven calls, and each and every one had gone to voicemail. He had overheard half of the conversations with his own ears, and had been told about the others by a rather irate Bucky, who had taken to visiting Tony in his workshop after making them in order to rant and rave about how nothing he did seemed to be working. Steve had made himself unreachable – and he wasn’t the only Avenger hiding out, either.

Clint was off the grid, from what Tony had heard. No one had gotten a good look at him aside from through the security cameras, and while Tony knew he should leave it alone, he had sent Coulson a text to let him know whenever Clint had shown up again. He knew what it was like to not know where your friends were, and having a lover wander off was far, far worse. Coulson always texted him back, but he never said anything other than a terse thank you.

After yet another Steve-less night, Tony had had more than enough. It was time to figure out just what the fuck was going on with Steve. He was sick and tired of sitting in his workshop, worrying himself to death. He spent the night working and drank enough coffee to keep himself going. This time he was going to catch Steve as he was sneaking into the building.

Tony passed out sometime around four in the morning with his face squashed against Dummy’s clawed arm, his coffee cup still clutched in his hand. When he snorted himself awake the next morning, he swore and rubbed his sore cheek.

“Jarvis?” Tony groaned. “Is he here yet?”

“I’m afraid you have missed him by three hours sir,” Jarvis said.

“What?” Tony sat up straighter. “What do you mean I missed him? Why didn’t you try and wake me up?”

“I tried, sir,” Jarvis said. “I’m afraid you continued to sleep despite my best effort. Dummy even tried to help, but you refused to get up,”

“Fuck,” Tony said, leaning back against Dummy. “Alright – well fuck the waiting then. I’m going to go out and do some legwork,”

“I believe the gym is available now if you are interested,” Jarvis said.

“No, no,” Tony scowled. “I mean I’m going to go hunt his ass down.” He wasn’t as good a spy as say, Natasha, but he knew Steve was hanging out _somewhere_ when he wasn’t in the tower and if he could figure that out, it would be a piece of cake to catch him unaware. Steve’s phone’s GPS was going to be his best friend; he could just tell.

 

Bucky wandered into Tony’s bedroom as Tony started awkwardly stepping into a pair of dark grey sweatpants. He watched Tony as he hopped around, and scratched at his unshaven chin as though confused with the sight. He was still in his Iron Man pajamas, and looked like he had just woken up. He hadn’t even brushed his hair yet. “What are you _doing_?”

“I’m going out to hunt for Steve,” Tony gritted out, rubbing at his sore hip as he managed to get the sweatpants on. There was a bruise on his lower back that was shaped like Dummy’s claw, and he couldn’t remember how it had gotten there. His muscles didn’t seem to be working properly today. He felt like he had somehow been transformed into a half-man, half-undercooked human-shaped noodle. Damn Dummy. This was all _his_ fault.

“Is there a reason why you’re trying to do that while mostly naked?” Bucky asked.

“I’m _shirtless_ ,” Tony snorted. “That’s not _naked_. Besides, I’m trying to get dressed – it’s just slow going.” Thankfully, everything still lying on his bed was easy to pull on – well, easy for someone without a messed up shoulder – and it wouldn’t take long to get fully dressed even with his body protesting his every move. He had picked casual clothing for this trip outside of the tower, making sure to wear thing that he normally only wore inside the Tower. He didn’t want to attract any more attention than necessary. This was about finding Steve, not the paparazzi.

“Alright,” Bucky said. “Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll come with you,”

“Fine – I guess I can let you come with me,” Tony grunted. He had no intention of arguing; it would be a lot easier to get Steve and Bucky to get over whatever it was that was going on between them if they were face to face. It was nice when things worked out that way without him having to consciously intervene. He retreated to the breakfast bar and munched his way through a bowl of cold Lucky Charms and milk while waiting for Bucky to return. “Hey Jarvis?” Tony called out, eating a pink marshmallow.

“Yes, sir?” Jarvis said.

“I be you twenty bucks he comes back looking like a hobo,” Tony said.

“I have no use for your money, sir,” Jarvis said dryly.

 

Bucky didn’t take long to get ready, despite his reluctance to spill the Winter Soldier’s full story to Steve. He stalked out of the elevator with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He was dressed in a black hoodie, and was wearing a pair of worn jeans that looked like they had gotten into a fight with a lawnmower; it was a close call, but Jarvis won in the end. He had even run a brush through his hair, and while it still looked a little on the wild side, it was mostly under control now. “Do we have time to grab doughnuts or something?” Bucky asked, glancing at the empty box of cereal.

“Probably,” Tony said, setting his bowl in the sink. “Jarvis, do me a favor. Check up on Steve, will you? I don’t want to walk into him before we’ve got a game plan,”

“Captain Rogers is currently in a MacDonald’s, getting breakfast,” Jarvis said with a sigh. “I have sent the address to your phone so you may stalk him at your leisure,”

Tony smirked. Good. Steve was still walking around with his phone. That would make things even _easier_. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and checked the address. _Perfect_! There was a bakery on the way and it made the best maple bacon flavored doughnuts in the city. Today was starting to look better and better.

 

 

With a box of doughnuts in hand and two massive paper cups filled with hazelnut flavored coffee, Tony and Bucky made their way down the street, tracking Steve’s GPS. After an initial inspection of the MacDonald’s to make sure they had a good vantage point that wouldn’t get them caught immediately, they realized that Steve wasn’t alone. Clint was sitting beside him at the table, poking at a pile of greasy hash browns and he looked like absolute _crap_. The guy had bags under his eyes and his expression was so hangdog, it looked like he was ready to crawl under the table and hide there forever. Steve didn’t look much better. He had eyebags under his eyebags and looked a little bit like he had been watching horror movies on repeat for the past month. If Tony had to guess, neither of Steve nor Clint had gotten any decent sleep in a long time. He wanted to hurl himself through the front door and hug Steve until he smiled again, but knew it probably wouldn’t go over so well – at least not with Clint and Bucky there.

Bucky hovered beside Tony on the sidewalk. “I get the feeling like we shouldn’t go in there,” he muttered.

“I get that feeling too,” Tony sighed in despair. “What do we do?”

“We wait and watch,” Bucky said with a shrug. “What else can we do? They don’t look like they want our company right now.”

Tony nodded. “Let’s go sit down,”

They retreated to a metal-and-wood park bench across the street and sat after shooing an irritable pigeon away from them. “Do me a favor, Jarvis,” Tony said, glancing at the MacDonald’s. “Keep an eye on them, alright? I don’t want to spook them if they see us.”

“Done, sir,” Jarvis said. “I will continue to monitor the situation, although the cameras I have access to are quite substandard,”

“Figures,” Tony grumbled. He hadn’t expected the cameras to be perfect, but he hadn’t thought they would be crap either. Apparently the people who owned the franchise hadn’t wanted to invest in their security. Oh well. At least the place had cameras in the first place. Licking the sugary maple glaze off of his fingers, Tony pulled out his phone and set it on his lap.

“You’re expecting a call?” Bucky asked, plucking another doughnut from the box. There had been twelve there originally and now they were down to five. Bucky had eaten half of them before they had even made it out of the store.

“I’m not expecting one, no,” Tony grumbled. “But I apparently _missed_ one.” He frowned down at the screen. “It was Steve,”

Bucky nearly dropped his doughnut. “ _Steve_ called and you missed it?” he said, his words garbled by the food in his mouth.

“Apparently,” Tony sighed. “He didn’t leave a message – Jesus! Swallow before you choke to death!”

“Well, he called,” Bucky mumbled. “That counts for something, right?”

“I guess,” Tony said. “Jarvis, why didn’t you tell me Steve called?”

“I’m sorry sir,” Jarvis’ said, his voice coming from the phone’s speakers, “I underestimated the appeal of the maple doughnuts.”

“Great,” Tony groaned. The doughnuts had cost him a conversation with Steve. Suddenly, they didn’t taste as delicious. “Next time Steve calls, put him through even if I’ve got my mouth full,”

“Noted, sir,” Jarvis said. The AI hesitated and then spoke again. “Captain Rogers did call back after, but he used another number to get a hold of you,”

“He tried to call me at the Tower?” Tony asked, puzzled. He hadn’t thought that Steve had even known that number; it wasn’t one he normally handed out to anyone other than business acquaintances.

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis said. “I told him that you were currently out having breakfast with Mr. Barnes, and he told me that he would get back to you later.”

“How did he sound?” Bucky asked, reaching for another doughnut. “Did he sound angry? I hope he wasn’t angry,”

“Judging by the tone and words Captain Rogers used, I believe he was _sad_ ,” Jarvis said. “He seemed unhappy that he was unable to contact you, sir,”

Tony picked up his phone, dialed Steve’s number and put it to his ear. He crossed his fingers and hoped that Steve wouldn’t somehow spot him through the window; they were across the street and out of sight, but Clint was with Steve, and that rat bastard could pick out a penny on the floor in a crowded street. The phone rang once. It rang again. It rang again. It went straight to voicemail. Tony glanced at the McDonalds. “He’s not answering,” he muttered, dialing again.

“Maybe he’s in the bathroom,” Bucky said, licking the sugary glaze of his last doughnut off of his fingers. “Sometimes he has to pee,”

Tony nearly snorted his coffee out of his nose. “Gee,” he croaked, wiping at his upper lip. “Thank you – that’s very helpful,”

“Give him a minute to get back to you. You don’t want to scare him off,” Bucky chuckled, nodding to the phone.

Tony slumped against the bench. He grimaced and rubbed at his sore shoulder, wishing he had thought to bring a pillow with him. Yes, it would have drawn attention to him, but at least his shoulder wouldn’t have been aching so badly. He glanced around, quickly scanning the street and then hung up the phone, setting it down on his knee. “Is he still in the building, Jarvis? Check the security footage again,”

“Sir,” Jarvis sighed. “Might I remind you that this is an invasion of privacy for more than just the Captain?”

“Duly noted, now get back spying for daddy,”

“Captain Rogers is currently staring at his phone,” Jarvis said. “I believe he is debating on whether or not he should call you back,”

“Oh?” Tony perked up. “Does it look good?”

“The phone is in _excellent_ condition, sir,” Jarvis said dryly.

Tony scowled. “Very funny, smartass. What’s he doing now?”

“He has put away his phone, sir,”

“What?” Tony frowned. “ _Why_?”

“I believe he has decided not to call you back,” Jarvis said. “I’m afraid I am unable to give you the exact reason as to why he has decided this, sir,”

“Alright, alright,” Tony grumbled. “Fine. Tell me when he leaves the building,”

“Captain Rogers and Mr. Barton have left the building,” Jarvis said.

Tony jumped up, glancing around wildly. Clint and Steve had left? They were looking right at the main entrance! Why hadn’t they seen them leave?

“Relax,” Bucky said, picking up the empty doughnut box. “You’re drawing attention to yourself,”

“Well excuse me for not being a _super spy_ ,” Tony growled, smacking Bucky in the shoulder. He winced and rubbed his sore hand. “Fuck you _and_ your metal arm,”

Bucky chuckled and threw the doughnut box into the garbage can beside him. “You’re the idiot that built it,”

“Yeah, well,” Tony muttered, still rubbing his hand. “Apparently I’m too nice for my own good,”

“You coming?” Bucky said, strolling away from the bench. He flipped his hood up and tucked his hair into it as he walked, pulling a pair of sunglasses from of his pocket. He paused and sighed aloud when Tony didn’t immediately follow his lead. “Put your damn sunglasses on and get your fucking hood up. We’re going to lose them if you don’t move your ass,”

Tony scowled at Bucky and yanked up his hood, stuffing his phone into his pocket. He pulled out the cheesy pair of sunglasses he had bought at a gas station months before and put them on, glaring at Bucky. “I can track the GPS in Steve’s phone, remember? We’re not going to lose him that easily,” he muttered.

“And what makes you think he’s going to keep that on him at all times?” Bucky growled, leading them around the corner. He put a hand out to keep Tony from running head first into a man with a cup of coffee and then started down the street with Tony trailing after him. “People lose their phones all the time, Tony. Use your eyes, not your tech,”

“People don’t lose _my_ phones,” Tony grunted, sidestepping a woman with a stroller. He couldn’t see Steve or Clint in the distance, but he trusted that Bucky knew what he was doing. The man was a master assassin, after all. He _had_ to be good at stalking targets.

Bucky grabbed Tony by the arm and dragged him into an alleyway. He kept his fingers curled gently around Tony’s wrist as he tugged Tony along behind him. He paused, seeming to realize what he had done and grabbed Tony by the hand instead.

“Is there a reason why you’re holding my hand?” Tony asked, curious by the unexpected physical contact. His wrist was still bruised, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been a few days ago. “Is this a date? Should I have bought you flowers?”

“I need to make sure you’re keeping up,” Bucky said with a dry laugh. He pulled Tony behind a dumpster and put his hand over Tony’s mouth. “Now shut up,”

Tony let out a slow breath, all too aware of Bucky’s fingers against his lips. He shuddered, reminding himself that he was fine – that Bucky wasn’t going to hurt him. Still, when Bucky lowered his hand, he breathed a little easier.

“They’re heading down to the park,” Bucky whispered, peering around the dumpster. “We’re going to have to double back if we want to keep up without being spotted.” He grabbed Tony by the shoulders and turned him around, pushing him towards the other end of the alley. “Move it,”

“Jeeze,” Tony muttered, squirming under Bucky’s touch. “Pushy much?”

Bucky snorted loudly, steering Tony around the corner. “If you weren’t moving so damn slow, I wouldn’t have to be so pushy,”

They nearly crashed into Coulson.

Bucky froze, his hands still clamped down on Tony’s shoulders; Tony shifted in place, wondering if it would be bad form to take off running down the road without Bucky.

Shit.

Now they were in for it.

“Well, well, _well_ ,” Coulson said, taking a sip from his red-white-and-blue Captain America metal travel mug. He looked considerably better than he had the last time Tony had seen him. His grey suit was impeccably starched, and his hair was neatly combed. He glanced at Tony and then let his gaze settle on Bucky’s hands, his expression turning grim. “What are you two gentlemen up to?”

“Nothing,” Tony said, perhaps a shade too quickly. “We’re just out for a walk, right Bucky?”

“You’re taking a stroll down a dirty back alley?” Coulson cocked an eyebrow. “I highly doubt that, Tony,”

“Hey,” Bucky grumbled, still standing behind Tony, “We’re _men_. We’re not afraid of back alleys,”

“You’re stalking Clint,” Coulson growled. “I do not appreciate you stalking Clint,”

“We’re not stalking Clint,” Tony said. “We’re stalking _Steve_ – that’s totally different,”

Coulson’s expression brightened considerably. “Oh? How’s it going with you and him these days?”

“He hasn’t really been home,” Tony said with a sigh. “He’s in and out before anyone even realizes he’s there, and he hasn’t been sleeping at home,”

Coulson frowned. “That doesn’t sound good,”

“Thus, why we are here,” Tony said. “Why are _you_ here?”

“Oh, I’m checking up on Clint,” Coulson said, taking another sip from his travel mug. “He’s on guard duty right now,”

“He’s sitting on a park bench with Steve,” Bucky said with a snort. “How is that guard duty?”

“He’s guarding Steve,” Coulson said with a shrug. “Strictly speaking, I’m not supposed to know about it.”

“Natasha told you, didn’t she?” Tony said with a smirk.

Coulson smiled. “I can neither confirm nor deny how I found out about it, but let’s just say Steve’s got good people watching out for him, and Natasha happens to be one of them,”

“You know, I’m all for having awkward conversations in back alleys, but shouldn’t we be doing what we came here to do?” Bucky muttered. He nodded towards the park, but didn’t creep out from behind Tony.

Tony wondered if there was a reason why Bucky was still lurking behind him, not making any sudden moves; he knew the pair hadn’t had the best introduction, but he hadn’t thought it was that bad between them. One brief look at Bucky’s face, however, made it clear that Bucky wasn’t afraid of Coulson – Bucky seemed to be having a hard time not _attacking_ him. It was clear who had removed Bucky’s arm at the Beach House; Tony could see something dark and dangerous glinting in Bucky’s eyes. He made sure to keep himself in between the two and smiled, hoping to keep the peace as long as possible.

“By all means – continue your spying,” Coulson said, smiling sharply at Bucky. “Or we could just go find somewhere to sit down and tap into the microphones and listen from a distance. It’s your call,”

“You’re _wiretapping_ Steve?” Tony asked. The news made him both angry, and nervous. He had known SHIELD was a little on the obsessive side, but he hadn’t thought they would resort to spying on _Captain America_ , especially when they knew damn well the guy was on their side.

“Technically, we’re using Clint’s phone to overhear everything that’s going on,” Coulson said. “I’m assuming he knows about what we’re doing – although he probably doesn’t know _exactly_ who is listening in aside from Natasha,”

“So we can just listen in on their conversation?” Bucky asked, peering suspiciously at Coulson. “And he’s going to let us do this?”

“He doesn’t really have a choice,” Coulson said. “He can either accept the spying, or he can accept reassignment to the Hellicarrier’s brig.”

“That’s just plain _cruel_ ,” Tony muttered.

“It was Fury’s idea,” Coulson said, wearily. “I tried to talk him out of it, but he felt there needed to be some kind of punishment for the loss of the LMD Clint was watching,”

“So it’s about the money,” Tony snorted. “Why am I not surprised?”

“LMD’s aren’t cheap,” Coulson said sharply. “Not those kind, at any rate. Clint knew what the risks were when he took the job and he accepted the punishment willingly,”

“He could still turn the phone off,” Tony said.

“That’s true, he could turn the phone off, but _he’d_ still be bugged.” Coulson sighed and shook his head. “I hate that Fury ordered us to do it, but at least this way it’s Steve’s friends hearing everything and not some stranger who could use his words against him,”

“He’s not going to appreciate it when he finds out you were spying on him,” Tony grumbled, “even if it is for a good reason,”

“Me?” Coulson cocked an eyebrow. “ _I_ wasn’t spying on him – technically speaking, it’s SHIELD doing the spying. I’m just monitoring everything for quality control purposes,” he said, leading them towards a bench across the street. Bucky and Tony followed along, settling down on the bench beside him with Bucky squashed against Tony’s side. “Just between you and me,” Coulson said as he pulled out his phone and set it on his knee, “the report I submit on this is going to be _extremely_ boring.” He tapped at the phone and suddenly they could hear Steve’s voice. The sound quality wasn’t bad, but if it had been Stark Tech they had been using, it would have been better.

 

“I don’t know,” Steve said, wearily.

“Well, what are you going to do about it? You can’t keep avoiding your floor forever you know,” Clint growled.

“You’re one to talk,” Steve said with a snort. “You haven’t even gone home _once_ ,”

“Yeah, well,” Clint said, “I don’t think he wants me home,”

“Coulson loves you,” Steve said, softly. “He’s not going to chase you off. He just needs some more time,”

“I don’t know what to say to him,” Clint grumbled.

“You don’t need to be wordy – just tell him how you feel. Tell him you love him,” Steve said.

“Easy for you to say,” Clint muttered. “People listen to you,”

“You think my life is easy?” Steve snapped. “I hate what this is doing to me – I hate what it’s doing to Bucky and Tony,”

“You can’t keep avoiding them,” Clint said. Something clicked through the speakers and then his voice came back, stronger. “Tony’s not going to be happy that you’re vanishing all the time. He wants you around – you know that,”

“Yeah, well,” Steve grumbled. “I don’t know what to say to him.”

“I guess you’re going to have to take your own advice there. Tell him the truth,” Clint said.

“They went out for breakfast together,” Steve said with a sigh. “They don’t need to hear from me,”

“Bullshit,” Clint growled. “They’ve called you over thirty times – you need to call them back,”

“I don’t know how to start,” Steve said softly. “I keep picking up the phone and putting it down.”

“Well, for starters you can tell him how you really feel,” Clint chuckled darkly. “Although maybe you shouldn’t listen to me. I did that and it fucked everything up,”

“Coulson loves you,” Steve murmured. “You didn’t change that,”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t want to marry me anymore,” Clint spat. “He _fake married_ Tony – did you know that?”

“No,” Steve said, sounding confused. “Why did they get fake married?”

“They were taking care of you – you were little then. I keep forgetting you were little. Is that weird?” Clint said. “God, I wish I could sleep. Everything keeps blurring together.”

“Tony didn’t say anything about that,”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to think about it. God knows I don’t,” Clint muttered.

 

Tony, Coulson and Bucky exchanged looks.

 

“Look,” Steve said, his voice crackling over the phone, “I don’t want to sound like a broken record here, but you need to talk to Coulson. Figure it out before you end up like me,”

“ _You’re_ not fucked over,” Clint snorted. “You’re fine. Just talk to Tony and work it out,”

“It’s not Tony I need to talk to,” Steve grumbled.

“Then who is it? Barnes?” Clint asked.

“I’ve known him most of my life,” Steve sighed. “You don’t understand. What I did screwed _everything_ up,”

“Oh _please_ ,” Clint said, “I highly doubt he’s going to run off crying. He’s a grown man – he can take it – whatever it is,”

“I got _involved_ , Clint – you don’t understand,” Steve muttered bitterly. “I told myself I wouldn’t do that to him. I thought I could let it go, but I couldn’t and now I’ve ruined it for him,”

“You’ve ruined _what_ , exactly?” Clint asked, exasperatedly. “Because from what I’ve seen, you haven’t really done anything with _anyone_. You’ve been moping around out here when you could be nice and warm in the Tower,”

“I can’t go back there,” Steve said softly. “Tony’s there,”

 

Tony swallowed down a lump in his throat. Steve wasn’t coming back because _he_ was at the tower?

Bucky rested a hand on Tony’s shoulder and let out a long, slow sigh.

 

“So it wasn’t _you_ that fucked up then,” Clint said, sounding confused, “It was Stark?”

“No!” Steve said, sharply. “It was me! I did it. I shouldn’t have crawled into bed with him,”

“You crawled into _bed_ with him?” Clint asked. “I thought you said nothing happened,”

“It’s not like _that_ ,” Steve groaned.

“Well what was the problem then? I thought you liked him?” Clint asked.

“I do,” Steve admitted, his voice turning sad. “But what I want doesn’t matter,”

“Rogers,” Clint growled, “You are one _dumb_ motherfucker, you know that, right?”

Steve snorted. “I know – believe me, I know.”

“So you’re upset that you’ve upset Barnes?” Clint asked. “That’s _lame_ , man,”

“You should have seen him,” Steve said, his voice going so soft the microphone had a hard time picking it up. He sniffled. “He had bloodshot eyes. He looked like _hell_ ,”

“That might not have been your fault, you know,” Clint grumbled. “Come on, man! You can’t have done something _that_ bad. You’re _you_.”

“I got in the way, Clint. He was supposed to be happy, and now he’s not,” Steve murmured.

“So go talk to Tony and sort this out before you fuck it up worse – talk to Bucky too while you’re at it. I still think you’re making a mistake not going for it,” Clint said.

“I’ll talk to him in a few days,” Steve mumbled.

“Oh? Are you waiting for a miracle?” Clint asked. “Are doves going to fly down and shit out forgiveness for you? Because if they are, I’d like to be in on that,”

“I’m waiting for his floor to be finished,” Steve snapped.

“Ah. So you think it’s going to be _bad_ ,” Clint said. “Epic blow up bad – not just regular bad.”

“I don’t want it to be, but yes,” Steve said. “I don’t think he’s going to want to talk to me for a while,”

“And you’re _absolutely_ sure that you’re not overthinking things?” Clint asked. “Because you do that – a lot.”

“I’m not overthinking things,” Steve growled. “I know what I did wrong. I’m going to apologize for it, and make things right – I just need time to figure out how to do that.”

“Well, you can’t keep living out here on park benches, buddy,” Clint sighed. “When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I took one at the YMCA a few days ago,” Steve grumbled. “I don’t smell that _bad_ ,”

“Bad is a matter of perspective,” Clint muttered. “How much sleep have you had since this all happened?”

“I’m _fine_. I got some sleep on Sharon’s couch and I took a nap in the library yesterday – it’s not a hardship, if that’s what you’re asking. I did this – I deserve to suffer for it,”

“You don’t need to be skulking around libraries and hanging around in diners until the asscrack of dawn, Rogers,” Clint said, softly. “You should be at home, sleeping in the big, comfy bed of yours. It’s there for a reason – _Tony_ put it there for a reason. He’s not going to chase you out, you know. He likes you. He wants you to be happy,”

“He likes Bucky more,” Steve said. “And I don’t want to mess that up.”

“Oh please. You’re _delusional_ ,” Clint snorted. “You need to go home and lie down, man. You’ve either hit your head, or you’ve been too long without real sleep, because you’re talking like a crazy person right now.”

“I’m not crazy!” Steve snapped.

“You need to go home and talk to Tony,” Clint insisted. “He’ll explain everything. You’ll see,”

“I’ll talk to him once Bucky’s floor is finished,” Steve muttered sullenly.

“Alright – I’ll tell you what,” Clint drawled. “If you can talk to –”

 

The siren that tore free from the phone made Tony fling himself back into Bucky.

 

Coulson sighed and lifted the phone off of his knee as the Avengers Assemble alert blared again. “I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he said. He glared at Bucky, as though daring him to say something and stood up. “Get him home in one piece, Barnes. If I see either one of you out there on the field, I’m going to personally make sure you both suffer,”

“You’re leaving after what we just heard?” Bucky asked, incredulously.

Coulson scowled. “We didn’t hear _anything_ ,” he said, carefully enunciating each and every word. “ _You_ didn’t hear anything – _no one_ heard anything. We are going to go on with our lives and wait for them to make their decisions,”

“That’s fucking stupid!” Bucky growled. “We can fix things _right_ _now_!”

Coulson tucked his comm into his ear and smiled grimly. “Are _you_ going to explain that we sat here and listened to their private conversation?”

Bucky’s mouth opened and closed with a click of his teeth.

“I didn’t think so,” Coulson said, turning away from the bench. “Worst case scenario, we end up waiting a few days before they say something. It will work itself out. You said so yourself. And if it doesn’t, we can fix it.”

“And what if he doesn’t say anything at all?” Tony asked, staring down at his feet. He wasn’t sure what he should do now; there was a lot he wanted to say to Steve, but it didn’t seem like Steve was going to want to listen – at least not until he had had a _long_ conversation with Bucky. He put his face in his hands and let out a muffled groan.

Coulson turned back around and put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “If he doesn’t say anything at all, you have my permission to hunt his sorry ass down and explain _everything_ to him, and if you need to find someone to take the blame for all of us overhearing what he said today, then so be it – I will accept that burden for all of us.” He glared at Bucky over the top of Tony’s head. “You don’t really need to say anything to him Tony. Barnes is the one who needs to come out and tell him he’s seeing things the wrong way. He’ll take it better if it comes from Bucky first,”

“I’ve _tried_ telling him that,” Bucky grumbled. “He isn’t answering my calls,”

“Then leave him a message – _multiple_ messages,” Coulson said. “I don’t care if you have to stick a post it to the bathroom mirror or staple one to his head. _Explain_ it to him before he goes out of his way to make himself completely miserable, and do it fast.” Coulson turned towards a black SUV as it pulled up beside them, and stuffed his phone into his pocket. “Now I’m going to go help the rest of the team destroy a pack of mutant sheep. You two go home – and leave Steve and Clint alone.”

Tony sighed and nodded to Coulson. “Alright. Don’t get yourself killed out there,”

Coulson got into the passengers seat and closed the door. “The same to you Tony, the same to you,”

 

 

Tony and Bucky got home after a rather long and grueling trek down the many side streets in the city; with the police cordoning everything off to keep people out of the path of the mutant sheep, it was hard to find a quick route home. Try as they might, they couldn’t spot Steve in the crowd – or Clint. The pair had seemingly vanished, off to wherever it was they normally went these days now that they were both off duty.

Bucky followed Tony up to the penthouse and sat with him at the kitchen table. They nursed cups of strong black coffee and stared at the yellow pads of lined paper in front of them.

Tony knew what he wanted to say to Steve. He wanted to tell Steve that it was absolutely insane to think that he and Bucky could ever – _ever_ – be in a relationship, but he couldn’t find a polite way to phrase it. He scowled and rested his elbows on the table. Beside him, Bucky was having just as much trouble writing out his own letter to Steve. Neither of them wanted to rely on paper to get the point across, but in this was the easiest way to get the phrasing right – even if they weren’t going to use the paper itself.

“Sir?” Jarvis’ voice drew Tony from his thoughts.

Tony looked up, glad for the distraction. “Yeah, Jarvis? What’s up?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Jarvis said.

“What?” Tony croaked out, his mouth going dry. Please no – _please, please, please, no_ – Please let Steve be ok.

“I apologise if I frightened you,” Jarvis said quickly, “But I’m afraid the Board of Directors is demanding that you fly out to personally deal with the latest managerial dispute at the Malaysian SI site,”

Tony groaned. “I can’t just leave _now_ ,”

“I’m afraid there is no other option but to leave now. Mrs. Potts is already on route to join you, sir,” Jarvis said. “She has instructed me to have you pack enough clothing for a minimum of two weeks. There was nothing she could say to the board to stall things any longer. City and government officials are demanding that they have a personal consultation with you, and they are refusing to let Stark International continue to operate in the country if you refuse to come and hear their demands.”

Tony clenched his fists. If it had been one of the smaller facilities he might have been willing to call their bluff, but he did a lot of business in Malaysia, and if he was forced out, over ten thousand people would be put out of work. He loved Steve – wanted to spend the rest of his life with him – but he couldn’t do it. His life he could ruin – he would suffer a thousand times over. But theirs? The lives of ten thousand workers? No. He couldn’t do that, no matter how much he loved Steve. He stood up and pushed the yellow pad of paper away. “I’ve got to take care of this,” he said quietly, aware that Bucky was watching his every move.

“What do you want me to say to him?” Bucky asked.

“Tell him the truth,” Tony said. “Tell him that you and I aren’t dating and that neither of us would even _think_ about it,”

Bucky squirmed in his seat. “Well I wouldn’t say that,”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky said, hastily looking away. “Have fun on your trip,”

“Yeah,” Tony said giving his head a shake. He had probably heard Bucky wrong; it had been a long day. “I’ll try, but I’m pretty sure this trip is going to drain what’s left of my soul,”

“At least _you’ll_ get to avoid having all those awkward conversations with Steve,” Bucky snorted. “On second thought, can I come with you?”

Tony smiled thinly at Bucky. “Oh, believe me, I’m not going to be missing _anything_. I’m going to be having all of those conversations in my head over and over again until I get back here and see him face to face,” he said.

“Let me know if you figure out how to phrase it in a way that doesn’t end up with either of us being smacked,” Bucky grumbled.

“Sure,” Tony chuckled darkly. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

“Good luck,” Bucky said.

“You too,”

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's trip was productive, yet at the same time, very unproductive...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for gore and nudity/torture. It's not graphic, and you only see the aftermath.

Tony struggled his way out of the elevator. He was coasting on over ten cups of coffee today alone, and wasn’t quite feeling jittery enough yet to crash. He wanted to sleep, he really,  _ really _ did, but he couldn’t seem to find the  _ time _ . Sighing aloud, he made his way towards the kitchen, hoping to scrounge some food before his stomach acid could tear a hole through him. He was glad to be home. At least here he could get a decent night’s sleep – and a cheeseburger. 

“Is anyone home?” Tony called out as he pulled open the fridge. It was woefully bare, devoid of everything edible save condiments; he sighed and shut it, not in the mood for mustard. He was living with  _ locusts _ . There was no other explanation – locusts had descended on his poor, beloved, fridge. It had been full of groceries when he had left! He knew it had been full – he had been the one to put the food away! 

“Welcome home, sir. I’m afraid the Tower is currently empty,” Jarvis said. “The other have gone out to watch a movie as it is team bonding night.”

Tony stiffened.  _ Team bonding night? _ Wasn’t  _ he _ part of the team? Or had that changed while he was gone? “When the hell did they decide to do that?” he asked, wishing that he didn’t sound quite so bitter.

“Captain Rogers suggested it two days after you left for Malaysia, sir,” Jarvis said.

“Great,” Tony snorted. He scowled at the floor. “The first second  _ I’m _ gone, he decides they need to  _ bond _ .” 

“I believe you were to be included, sir,” Jarvis said. “The Captain seemed extremely unhappy when he announced it and realized that you had left the country without saying anything to him,”

Tony stilled. Steve had seemed upset? He hadn’t expected  _ that _ . Maybe he should have stopped by and said something after all. “Anything else I should know?” he asked, speaking a bit louder than usual so he could be heard over the sound of his growling stomach. 

“Agent Romanoff took the liberty of ordering food for you before they left,” Jarvis said. “It should arrive in approximately six minutes,”

Tony leaned hard against the island beside him. “Well, at least they had the decency to get me food. I suppose I can forgive them,” 

“I do not believe they went out without you on purpose, if that helps, sir. They were unsure as to when you would arrive, and as they had already purchased their tickets, they felt it was better to continue with their evening and see you when they got back,” Jarvis said.

“Great,” Tony muttered, dejectedly. “So they _all_ went out? What about Bucky?” He had meant to phone and check up on the guy, but he hadn’t managed it, not with Pepper and everyone else breathing down his neck every five minutes.

He had, however, managed to squeeze in a ten minute business-slash-personal call with Mrs. Jia about the Beach Houses. The house he had picked out for Steve was coming along nicely; the ones he had chosen for the rest of the team were being gutted and rewired so that everything was up to code again. He was going to have to stop by to see the work eventually, but it could wait – at least until after he had gotten a few night’s sleep. He was going to enjoy his impromptu vacation – assuming of course that he could escape Pepper and the mountain of paperwork that seemed to be following her around these days.

“Mr. Barnes graciously agreed to accompany them after Agent Romanoff threatened to knock him out and drag him there if he refused. I believe she was tired of seeing him moping around the tower in his pajamas,” Jarvis said.

“Why was he moping?” Tony asked, carefully. He felt cold all over. Had the conversation with Steve gone _that_ badly? Bucky had said that he had wanted to _fix_ things, but had he managed to pull it off?

“I am unsure as to the cause, although I believe it stems from the fact that he and Captain Rogers have not been in the same room since their conversation a week ago,” Jarvis said. He sounded weary, which was surprising because it took a hell of a lot to make _Jarvis_ weary; Tony would know – he had done all of the coding and _weary_ was a level ten if statement that took a whole shitload of conditions to trigger.

“What the hell happened? He was supposed to talk to Steve _weeks_ ago,” Tony grumbled. He caught the edge of the nearest barstool with his toe and dragged it towards him so he could collapse onto it. His shoulder was feeling marginally better today, and the bruises on his wrist had mostly faded now. Despite the improvements to his health, he still felt like he had been run over by a cement mixer. He had been in five separate seemingly endless meetings; the sitting around had been slowly killing him. He rested his head on the counter and let out a contented sigh.

“I am unsure as to why he waited so long,” Jarvis said.

“They did talk _eventually_ , right? It better not have been some random fight,” Tony grumbled.

“They did indeed converse,”

“So – what did they say?” Tony muttered into the counter.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you. I have been sworn to secrecy, sir,” Jarvis said. “Mr. Barnes stated that he wished to talk to you about it personally,”

“Right,” Tony sighed. Well, at least that situation had been handled – more or less. He had cleared things up in Malaysia too, but it had taken both him and Pepper to get things smoothed out in the end. The Manager at the plant they had been forced to tour was an obnoxious little prick with control issues, and he had been screwing around with his employees. The fucker had been making the lower level workers work overtime without actually paying them for it; he had sent the bills on to SI for the overtime so he could pocket the extra funds. He had been caught, of course; men like him were always caught, but by the time he had been found out he had managed to get over three million dollars stashed away in his private accounts. Neither Tony nor Pepper had been happy leaving him in charge of the plant – not with him stealing from them. They had taken immediate action.

The work to remove the guy from SI’s payroll would have gone faster if the whistleblower, an older gentleman in the plant’s accounting department, had agreed to outright testify. Unfortunately, he had been too frightened of the manager; he had believed that the guy would go after his family. Even with the promise of anonymity, he had refused to help other than by pointing them in the right direction. They had been forced to search through hardcopy files in the plant’s main office in order to find the evidence they needed, and even with Jarvis poking around on the plant’s computer system to catch anything else lying around, the search had taken days. They had been forced to split the work up. While he had worked his way through crappy, yellowing, printouts, Pepper had wrangled the press, Managers _and_ the Government. She was a blessing, as always, and once he had everything he needed to go after the manager, he had given her the sweet, sweet, gift of delivering the deathblow; she had smiled for the rest of the week, even when she found a hair in her fried rice two days in a row.

Unfortunately, even with their evidence, it had been a simple firing. The thief had been well protected; the guy was friends with the manager of the number 10 plant – the biggest plant SI owned in Malaysia – and that same friend was a _very_ close friend with one of the Government officials who approved companies applying to work in the country. That had made things _tricky_. If it was anyone else, Tony could have fired the guy and taken his chances with the Government, but the bastard had gone straight to his friends the minute he figured out that they had caught him.

In order to deal with him, Tony had been forced to take a much less direct, although no less vicious, approach. First, he had tried to barter with the guy, even though he had wanted to shove him off a roof; he offered money to get the guy step down and take up a position elsewhere. When _that_ had failed, Pepper had offered a simpler solution – bad publicity. It wasn’t _illegal_ for _them_ to spread information about what was happening, after all; they owned everything. It wasn’t slander either, because they could prove everything. Yes, it was _nicer_ to go through lawyers and to keep things hidden from the press but it was worth it. Getting rid of that one man had given the workers back their safety and money and while it had cost SI over a hundred thousand dollars in stock drops, it had saved them millions in the long run.

The manager’s friends had complained for a whole ten minutes before giving in to their demands. Once the local news station had conveniently figured out of what was going on and showed their _displeasure_ with the situation by blasting them on air, they had thoughtfully decided to send the man away on a _permanent_ vacation in order to keep their jobs. SI’s partners had been more than happy to help put pressure on the rest of the idiots still willing to threaten SI; that was the upside to having so many good businesses on his side, and Tony made sure to both acknowledge them as well as reward them with a few nice contracts. Good behavior deserved a reward, after all, especially if it was to be repeated.

Despite the success, it had still taken them two weeks to finish working out the kinks and straightening out the mess that had been left behind after the manager’s disgruntled departure. SI’s team of legal experts and accountants had taken a solid four days to get everything organized again; it wasn’t too bad a timeframe, but to Tony it seemed like it had taken _forever_. In the end, SI paid out the lost overtime and accepted the hit. Tony was good at making money but in order to do that he needed nice, happy workers to get their product out. Even the Board of Directors had been willing to accept that. The next week had been spent bouncing around the country, trying to smooth out the backlash.

Tony was barely conscious when Jarvis announced the arrival of the pizza delivery man; he shuffled over to the elevator and waited for it to bring him his pizza, taking the box from the startled man’s hands without speaking. He shuffled away after slipping the guy a hundred dollar bill and staggered over to the couch to eat his kill in peace. The pizza was greasy and delicious; he finished half the box in one go and licked his fingers clean before drifting off into a cheese induced coma.

 

 

Tony woke when the Avengers alarm went off. He groaned and rolled off of the couch and onto the pizza box. Swearing, he pulled the box out from under him, and sat back on his heels. The grease had thankfully stayed within the cardboard, but when he opened the box up to check on his poor, poor, pizza, he found that most of it was glued to the top of the box. Sighing mournfully, he rolled onto his side and fumbled about for his phone, checking it to see if he was needed for the callout. He hadn’t _technically_ been cleared for active duty, but that wouldn’t stop him from lending a hand if they sent an SOS. Sadly, his messages were blank. He pushed the phone across the floor towards the squashed pizza box and picked idly at the threads of cheese stuck to the top of the box.

“Sir?” Jarvis said, sounding concerned. “Do you require assistance?”

“Nope,” Tony said, gnawing at a blob of cheese. “I’m _fabulous_.”

The phone rang. Tony groaned and glared at it. “You couldn’t ring when I had you in my _hand_?” he groused. He dragged the phone closer and lifted his head so he could see which jerk was calling him.

It was Steve.

Tony hit connect so hard, he hurt his finger. “Hello? Steve?” he said.

“Mr. Stark?” The Skull chuckled. “I see I caught you at home – _excellent_ ,”

Tony stared down at the phone, frozen in horror.

_No_.

This couldn’t be real.

It couldn’t.

He was dreaming – it couldn’t be real.

He pressed the end call button and threw the phone away, curling in on himself. He was dreaming – this was all just a terrible dream.

The phone rang again.

“Sir?” Jarvis said, sharply. “Sir – Captain Rogers’s number is calling again. I believe it would be wise if you answered the phone.”

Tony reached out with trembling hands and picked up the phone. He pinched himself and shuddered when he. No, no, no! No this was supposed to be a _dream_! He swallowed down a lump in his throat and answered the phone before it could be sent to voicemail.

“I see that I have your attention,” The Skull drawled. The bastard was probably _smiling_.

“What do you want?” Tony said, hoarsely. He stood up and looked around the room; he dove for the yellow notepad and pen he had left out before his trip, and scrawled the words ‘check Steve’s location’ on the first page as legibly as possible. He knew that Jarvis was likely already searching for Steve’s GPS signal even without his prompting, but he needed to be sure the order got through. He needed to know and he needed to know _now_. The Skull might not wait.

“Don’t bother tracking the phone, Stark,” the Skull chuckled, as though reading Tony’s mind. “Do you think I would be foolish enough to leave you a way to track me? You will find your Captain when I want you to find him,”

“Sir,” Jarvis said, softly. “I’m afraid Agent Coulson has called. He and Agent Barton have just returned from an early dinner. The agents they deployed to watch Captain Rogers are all dead – and likely have been that way for hours,”

Tony let out a shaky breath. The Skull had had Steve for hours? “Where is he?” he asked.

“He’s with _me_ ,” The Skull said. “Did I not mention that already?”

“You have his phone – that doesn’t mean you have him,”

“That’s true, Stark,” the Skull said, softly. “I _could_ be lying to you. But who do you think gave me the phone? Did I perhaps conjure it from thin air?” Something screamed in the background as the Skull spoke, the sound so high pitched, it barely seemed human. “I _claimed_ this phone – I took it, just as I took your Captain,”

Tony gagged. He recognized the screams as they started up again, growing louder; it was Steve alright. All he could make out was the word no repeated over and over again. Tony cringed, cradling the phone against his face. “Don’t hurt him,”

“I hope you’re _listening_ , Stark,” the Skull said. “Are you listening? Or do you need me to have your little darling serenade you again?”

“No!” Tony said, quickly. “ _No_ – I’m listening, I swear!”

“Good,” The Skull said. “I was beginning to think I had picked the wrong person so call,”

“No, no,” Tony said, rubbing his hand over his chin to try and calm himself. “No. I’m the right guy. What do you need? Do you want money? I can give you money, just give me a time and a place and it’s yours,”

“ _Money_?” The Skull scoffed. “What do I want with _money_? I have enough of that to last me a lifetime. No, I don’t want your money, Stark. I want something better,”

“You want the suit?” Tony croaked. He didn’t want the suit falling into enemy hands, but at least that was a demand he could work with. His toys would always be his, after all, no matter who was piloting them. He could build a suit for the Skull – one he could destroy after the exchange. “I can give you a suit. What size are you? Extra-large? I think you’d be an extra-large – probably in the helmet, too,”

“Very funny,” the Skull growled. “Think a little harder, Stark. What else could I _possibly_ want from you?”

Tony’s mouth went dry. There was only one other thing the Skull knew he had – only one thing that couldn’t be gleaned from stolen blueprints or pilfered tech. “You want Extremis,” Tony murmured.

“An _excellent_ observation,” The Skull chuckled. “A little slow for someone like you, but you got there in the end,”

“I can’t give you Extremis,” Tony said. The suits he could give away – those were disposable, after a fashion, but Extremis? Extremis was a _plague_ – a disaster waiting to happen if it was released on the world – and it _would_ be released. The Skull would make sure of that; he would revel in the chaos it created. There was no guarantees with Extremis as it was now and while he would love to watch the Skull’s shiny, red, head burst like a fiery watermelon, he knew it wasn’t something he could risk. The Skull could _never_ get his hands on a working copy of Extremis. _Never_. He prayed that he wasn’t condemning Steve to his death. “I can’t give you Extremis,” he repeated dully.

“That’s too bad,” The Skull lamented. “Because that’s what your Captain’s life costs. Good bye, Stark,”

“Wait!” Tony said, sharply.

“Have you reconsidered _already_?” The Skull asked, sounding amused. “Is that what you are doing?”

“Yes,” Tony said, scribbling away at the pad of paper in front of him. The plan came easily to him. He knew Extremis inside and out; no other living person did. With Aldrich Killian and Maya Hansen both dead there was no one with more than a basic understanding of what Extremis really was. AIM had been responsible for its development, but they had nothing left of it to use – no more samples, and certainly no more detailed instructions. Hydra was just as useless. The question now wasn’t whether Hydra and AIM were capable of creating Extremis – the question was did they know _exactly_ what it could do? If they _didn’t_ , then he could give them _anything_ and they wouldn’t suspect a thing. Sure, the Skull would probably know that there as a possibility of being handed a fake – but there was no way he would know for sure until he tried to build it, and Tony knew how to make a _very_ convincing version of the code, one that would do exactly what he wanted it to do. That was the one good thing about the early version of Extremis; explosions came easily to it, and when they were controlled, they were extremely effective at taking out large groups. He didn’t like the idea of blowing _anyone_ up – of scorching _anyone_ , or causing damage that way – but if it was the Skull who turned into a smoking pile of ash, then he was willing to do whatever it took to make things happen.

“So you will give me Extremis?” The Skull asked.

“I’ll give it to you, but it’s not like I can give you an actual vial of the stuff,” Tony said, carefully, still scribbling out code for the batch of Extremis he would hand off to the Skull.

“Oh? And why is that?” The Skull growled, dangerously. “Things won’t end well if you play me for a fool, Stark. I am not a man to _tease_ ,”

“I get that,” Tony said through gritted teeth. “But it’s impossible. I can’t give it to you that way because I don’t have it built yet. Design and production will take weeks.” Tony kept his voice calm, trying not to sound too nervous. The Skull couldn’t know that he was planning something or Steve would suffer in his place; he couldn’t risk that. He knew what he was supposed to sound like in a situation like this – hostage taking and kidnapping was old hat to him. He knew fear and the Skull had seen enough of him to know he was capable of it – now all he needed to do was act the part. It was better that the Skull thought he was faking bravado – masking the fear – than it was to have him think that he was busy making plans.

“I see,” The Skull sighed. “I was under the assumption that you were working instead of simply wasting time.”

“I _was_ working,” Tony said, bristling. “I’m always work,”

“Oh, yes, you’ve been working, but not on the right things.”

“’I’ve been bedridden up until a few weeks ago,” Tony snorted. “I’ve been doing _paperwork_. I wasn’t allowed to do anything else,”

“You’ve been halfway around the world, Stark. Don’t lie to me,” The Skull said, sweetly. “I know where you were and what you were doing. Don’t pretend that you weren’t digging through AIM and Hydra’s assets, searching for my money. You were letting SHIELD piggyback on your work,”

Tony smirked. He was glad that the Skull couldn’t see him. If the Skull was mentioning all the poking around he had done, it had obviously been devastating enough to catch his attention. Clearly, the Skull was hurting more than he was letting on. “What did you expect me to do? Sit around with my thumbs up my ass?” Tony said.

“Of course not,” the Skull chuckled. “I’m glad you were busy. If you hadn’t been busy, I wouldn’t have been able to slip past your precious agents,”

“You’re _here_?” Tony asked, squinting at the holographic map Jarvis had helpfully put up in front of him. He pinged Steve’s GPS on the off chance that it would appear but there was no sign of him; all that remained was the coordinates of the phone’s final automated check-in with Tony’s private, secure, server. The Skull had done a bit of piggybacking of his own. Someone had either hacked into his system, or wiped the GPS card out.

“Of course I’m _here_ ,” the Skull growled. “Don’t be stupid, Stark. Where else would I be?”

“Well where do you want to do the trade?” Tony asked, pulling up Extremis’ folder. There was plenty here he could play with, and all of it looked oh-so-reliable until it was put into testing. The modifications he had scribbled out didn’t take that long to insert, and even typing one handed he managed it without drawing the Skull’s attention.

“You have the code ready?” The Skulls sounded pleasantly surprised.

“Of course I have it ready – who do you think I am? Justin Hammer?” Tony snorted.

The Skull laughed; the sound made Tony’s stomach roil. “You always seem to have time for _jokes_ , Stark. Normally that would make me want to skin you alive, but as I need you breathing – albeit temporarily – I will let your idiocy pass,”

“Great,” Tony muttered under his breath. He saved the new copy of Extremis as a separate file, away from everything else so there could be no mistaking it for something real.

“You will come alone to the address I will send you. You will have two hours – if you take any longer, I will send you pieces of your dear Captain,” the Skull drawled. “Do we understand each other?”

“I understand,” Tony said. He flinched with the Skull hung up and dove for the elevator with his phone clutched tightly in hand.

Jarvis had everything he needed ready without prompting; by the time Tony arrived at his workshop, he had a fresh flash drive loaded with the crippled version of Extremis. He glanced down at his phone and saw that, as promised, the Skull had sent the meet location. At least the bastard had kept his word.

“Sir?” Jarvis said, concerned, “I’m afraid I have some bad news,”

“What now,” Tony sighed, stalking towards the Iron Man suit. He was glad he had found the time to repair the suit in full before his trip to Malaysia. This version wasn’t upgraded yet, but it was strong. He hadn’t faced the Skull with anything other than his bare fists, but he had sparred with Steve before, and he knew just how much damage a Super Soldier could do. The suit would stand up – at least, he hoped it would.

“I have contacted the Avengers as you have requested, but they are unable to leave their position in the city,” Jarvis said.

“Hydra and AIM are busy causing problems?” Tony sighed, wearily. He didn’t wait for Jarvis to respond before clambering into the armor, settling the flash drive in an external containment pocket in the suit. He didn’t like leaving things outside where they could get crushed, but the thought of taking the armor off in front of the Skull in order to hand the flash drive over made his skin crawl.

“I don’t have time to wait for an escort, do I?” Tony asked.

“No,” Jarvis said. “I’m afraid you do not. If you don’t leave within the next ten minutes you will not reach Captain Rogers in time,”

“Alright – send the Avengers the address and tell them to hurry their asses,” Tony said. Fuck the Skull and his ‘come alone’ bullshit. He was going to have his backup goddamn it – he would just have to make sure it looked like they had chased off after him because they thought something was wrong. He grimaced as the faceplate settled in place. It was a good thing he hadn’t decided to get rip-roaring drunk tonight. He probably wouldn’t have been sober enough to face the Skull, even if he had had Jarvis to pilot the suit on the way there. He let the elevator take him up to the penthouse. “Keep me posted on what’s going on with the rest of the team,” he said, launching himself off the side of the building into the clouds.

“Colonel Rhodes has asked me to tell you that he, Mrs. Potts and Mr. Barnes will be following you as soon as they can take down the last of AIM’s robotic Octopi,” Jarvis said.

“There’s more than one?”

“There are approximate fifty, sir,”

“Size?”

“They are ten feet tall,”

Tony winced. “Are they going to be able to handle that many?” He knew he couldn’t turn back now, but he still had a few of the older suits puttering around. They weren’t speedy and couldn’t keep up his current suit, but they were fast enough to fly into town for some ass-kicking.

“I believe they will be fine, sir,” Jarvis said. “Mr. Odinson seems to be quite pleased with the way they _squish_ ,”

Tony smiled grimly. “Good. Alright – bring up satellite feeds for the meeting site. I want to know where everything is. If the Skull thinks he’s going to fuck with me, he’s got another thing coming,”

 

 

Tony was nervous. He had run the numbers, counted the heat signatures and looked over the location a half-dozen times already, but he still felt like he was missing something. He hoped it was just heartburn from the pizza. If he had missed something, well, there wasn’t much he could do until something strange happened. Still, it soothed him to know that the team would be ready to swoop in and save him – assuming they got here in time.

He arrived at the farmhouse ten minutes before he was expected; he took the time to look around, knowing he would need to know the layout if he wanted to make a quick escape. The Skull had done an excellent job picking his hideaway; it was almost impossible to reach the place quickly unless you had a way to get here by air. The back roads connecting it to the highway were poorly maintained and unmarked for the most part and unless you knew where you were going, you weren’t likely to find yourself here by accident. There would be no curious neighbors calling things in. Here, there was nothing but trees and rocks.

Tony glanced around, cataloguing the terrain. The satellite feeds he had used didn’t seem as helpful now. There was plenty of space to dig down without notice, and if the construction had indeed happened, it could have been kept quiet with a liberal application of money and murder. He touched down on a patch of grass on the outskirts of the compound, trying to avoid attracting attention immediately. There was only one building here and it was hard to miss it. He made it over to a large red and white wooden barn and scanned the structure for heat signatures, finding one in the middle of the barn. It was a small shape and Tony knew just by looking at it that he had found Steve. He scanned the perimeter again, spotting nothing strange, and then moved towards the barn, pushing open the doors. The wood creaked ominously under his touch, but the doors opened without protest. Tony stepped inside, watching for danger.

The barn was empty aside from a desk pressed up against the wall and a lonely chair; it was lit by a row of swinging lightbulbs. The air here was dry and dusty. There was no trace of animals around. This place hadn’t been used as a barn after all. Steve slowly looked up from the wooden floor. He was chained to two thick metal stakes that had been driven deeply into the ground; he was buck naked and shivering, and had curled in on himself to preserve his body heat. There were bruises all over his body and scrapes on his shoulders and hips that looked suspiciously like they had been made by fingernails or something else equally sharp. His eyes were out of focus and his hair was caked with blood and grime. He blinked at Tony, as though not seeing him and then paled, his eyes widening in fear. “Tony? Is that you?”

What had the Skull done to Steve? Tony clenched his fists. The damage looked superficial from where he was standing, but there would be no way to know until he got Steve to a medic. “Steve? It’s me – that’s right. It’s Tony,” he called out. He moved forwards and snatched up the first chain, mindful of Steve’s fingers and toes so he wouldn’t step on them. He knelt down and gave the chain a gentle tug. The metal stakes didn’t budge and a quick scan told him that it, the manacles and the chains were made out of mixture of Adamantium and steel. They were breakable, but would it would take more time than he had. The ground beneath the wooden floor, on the other hand looked more promising; it was solid concrete laced with some kind of unidentifiable compound, but it was breakable. The metal stake held under repeated tugs and then wiggled when Tony really put his back into it.

“Tony – you need to leave,” Steve said, his voice slurred. He rattled the chains to try and draw Tony’s attention; his movements were weak and jerky. “You can’t be here – he’s going to take you away,”

“I’m not leaving you here,” Tony grunted. “And he’s not going to take me _anywhere_ ,”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say _that_ ,” The Skull drawled from the doorway. He smiled at Tony, giving his head a shake. “I see you’re trying to renege on our deal?” The Skull was flanked by two men dressed in long grey coats, but they didn’t look like they were much of a threat; neither of them were armed. One was carrying a laptop, and the other had what looked like a satellite phone in hand. The two scurried past the Skull and set everything down on the table, glancing over their shoulder at Tony every few seconds as though he was the real danger here.

Tony stiffened, calculating the odds of escape with an unarmoured, drugged, Steve. It didn’t look good. Even with the suit to mitigate the damage and the unarmed goons, it would be too dangerous to start a fight now. He shifted, putting himself in front of Steve and waited for the Skull to make his move.

“I would like my flash drive, Stark,” The Skull growled, nodding to his goons. The one on the left crept closer and held out his hand waiting.

Tony thought about punching the guy in the face. He tapped the suit and ejected the flash drive, tossing it to the goon as the Skull circled them like a ravenous dog waiting for food. “There. You have what you want, now let us go,” Tony said.

“I will have verification first,” The Skull said, sharply. He snapped his fingers and the goons crept back to the laptop; the drive was shoved into the USB port and inspected.

Tony held his breath, glad for the faceplate’s protection. No one could see him sweating – well, Jarvis could, but it wasn’t like he was going to say anything about it.

For five tense seconds, the goon manning the computer stared fiercely at the laptop screen, his brow furrowed in concentration. He let out a breath and looked up, nodding once to the Skull.

The Skull’s smile grew sharper. “I’m surprised,” he chuckled. “I didn’t think you would bend so easily, Stark – not after what I saw when we last met,”

Tony remained stiffly in front of Steve even as the goons started packing up the laptop. “So that’s it? We can leave?” he asked.

The Skull cocked an eyebrow. “Did I say _that_?” He chuckled and snapped his fingers again. The floor beneath Tony began to shake and drift down.

There had been a bunker under here after all.

Tony yanked at the first chain and heaved the metal stake attached to it free, cracking the concrete in the process. The floor continued its downward descent. He grabbed for the second chain, praying that he wasn’t hurting Steve and started yanking. It was far too close in here to use a laser – not if he wanted Steve to keep all of his limbs. If there had been the Super Soldier Serum in Steve’s veins, he might have risked it, but there was no way he could use something that dangerous on Steve now – not while they were moving.

“Sir?” Jarvis’ voice was loud in Tony’s ears. “The suit’s sensors are malfunctioning,”

“Tell me if you spot movement,” Tony gritted out, tugging at the chain.

“Sir! Something is approaching from above you,” Jarvis said.

Tony tore the metal stake free just as the sensors flashed, warning him of danger. Something heavy crashed down, ricocheting off the cement walls; it was the table. Thank god it was only a table. He threw himself on top of Steve; wood splintered, showering them with debris. Tony smashed the chair out of the way when it came flying down next and tensed, preparing to use his repulsors to blast anything else that came towards them. It was tight down here – he prayed that the Skull wasn’t going to jump down and join them.

Seconds passed and then minutes.

Nothing else dropped down from above; there was no sign of danger, not even the sound of shuffling feet. Tony didn’t trust the silence, but it seemed like they were safe for now. He frowned, glancing up at the bright light above them. The floor had finally stopped moving. They were approximate sixty feet down now, and while it was a deep hole, it was escapable – at least for him. He maneuvered Steve towards the wall in case the Skull was outside looking for something heavy to drop on them – like a tractor – and used the suit’s precision lasers to cut the chains binding Steve’s legs and arms down in size until they were only a few inches long; they were still attached to the manacles, but at they were manageable. He let his gauntleted hands linger on Steve’s bare forearms, wishing he had thought to bring along spare clothing.

Steve shivered and huddled closer to the suit. “Tony?” he whispered, his voice still thick and slurred. “I think they put something in my water,”

“I know, honey,” Tony said softly, scooping Steve up. “Jarvis – where are the heat signatures now? Is anyone around?”

“The sensors are still malfunctioning sir,” Jarvis said, “I am recalibrating them now. The Skull’s signature appears to have vanished.”

“Great,” Tony said, firing up his repulsors. He didn’t like the idea of the Skull disappearing so quickly, but he had more important things to do right now. Getting Steve to safety was the priority; catching the Skull would be nice, but there was always time for that. He had hidden tracking software in Extremis’ code, and Hydra wouldn’t be opening that particular file without giving him their location. They shot up and out of the hole, and hovered there as Tony scanned their surroundings for danger.

Tony spotted the first body and shuddered, glad that the suit was in between him and the gore. Apparently the Skull hadn’t needed goon one or two now that he had Extremis. The two men were lying on the floor in pieces, their limbs scattered about like confetti. Tony grimaced and tucked Steve against his chest, trying to block the grisly view.

Steve lolled in his grasp, his eyelids fluttering. He looped an arm around the suit’s bicep and let out a shaky breath. “Is that blood?” he asked.

“Yes,” Tony said.

“Is it yours?”

“No, Steve,” Tony said softly. “It’s not mine.” He cautiously approached the barn doors, aware that while the sensors appeared to be working, something was still wrong. The recalibration sequence was taking far too long; he was going to have to tear the system apart and rebuild it from the ground up when he got back home. This couldn’t happen again.

He almost didn’t register the movement. The Skull’s fist burst through the door and seized Tony by the arm.

Tony swore and fired his repulsors; he missed, but managed to keep Steve from getting grabbed. The Skull laughed and danced out of reach before kicking his way through the second door.

Tony twisted the suit out of the way and skidded backwards, tucking one arm around Steve to keep him in from getting hit by accident. He could fight the Skull in close quarters – but to do that he would need to put Steve down, and he didn’t really want to do that; they were going to have to run for it. “Jarvis? What’s the ETA on the others?”

“They remain fifteen minutes away,” Jarvis said. “Colonel Rhodes, Ms. Potts and Mr. Barnes have requested that you ‘get the hell out of dodge, sir,”

“Yeah,” Tony snorted. “I’m trying. Tell them to hurry it up.”

The Skull smirked at Tony; he dusted off his hands. “Did you really think I would let you _leave_ here, Stark?”

“We kind of had a deal,” Tony growled. “You went on and on about me trying to renege on it and here you are trying to stomp my ass? That’s very uncool,”

“You gave me bad information, Stark,” the Skull growled. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Tony shifted, moving back into the barn. How had the Skull figured it out so fast? Was there help somewhere outside? With the sensors down, he had no way of knowing if the Skull was alone or if the yard was filled with Hydra agents. It was pointless trying to zip out of the barn if that was the case; he wasn’t going risk losing Steve to a stray bullet. “What bad information? I gave you Extremis,” he lied.

“You gave me a Trojan and a copy that would make me explode,” The Skull roared, charging forwards.

Tony kicked out and caught the Skull in the chest, sending him skidding backwards. He launched the suit towards the wall, planning on blasting his way out through the wooden walls. The hand that wrapped around his right lower leg was vicelike; Tony barely had time to stifle a scream when the Skull’s finger dug into the metal plating, crushing the suit like it was made out of marshmallows. He felt his leg break and thrashed, throwing as much energy into the jetboot as possible, praying that his bones wouldn’t break further from the stress.

The Skull’s face _liquefied_. Tony gagged at the sight and turned, swinging his arms around to blast the Skull in the face again, scoring a direct hit.

Electricity sparked as the Skull’s head soared off and rolled across the ground. The bastard was an LMD! The body staggered, its hand still holding on tight to Tony’s damaged leg.

Laughter bubbled up from the severed robotic head.

Tony bit down on his lower lip and kicked the LMD in the arm with his good leg, freeing himself from its grasp. It staggered into the middle of the room and teetered on the edge of the hole in the floor before tipping over and vanishing.

“Fuck you,” Tony snarled, shifting the repulsor’s output so his injured leg wasn’t overtaxed. He scanned the area again as the suit’s sensors _finally_ recalibrated.

There was only the one heat signature in the area, but it was a big one. He hoped _this_ Skull wasn’t another goddamned LMD.

The heat signature sauntered closer to the barn.

“Are you quite finished in there, Stark?” The Skull called out, still hidden by the barn’s walls.

“Nope,” Tony yelled back, glancing around. The other side of the barn was still open, and an easy escape route. He didn’t trust it. The Skull had been out there, and there was no way of knowing if he had set up booby-traps. Cursing, he let the suit shoot him up with painkillers and brought his targeting system up. He wondered if the Skull would enjoy getting a face full of missiles.

“I told you I would let you go if you gave me Extremis,” The Skull growled, pacing around the barn. “But you refused to do that,”

“I _gave_ you Extremis,” Tony said, shifting Steve against his hip. “I gave you a version of it. You didn’t say it had to be useable,”

“You can’t give him Extremis,” Steve whispered, his eyes wide and glassy.

“I know that,” Tony muttered, keeping his voice low so only Steve could hear him. “It’s taken care of – don’t worry about it,”

“You need to get out of here,” Steve insisted. He grabbed at Tony’s shoulder, his fingers skidding across the smooth metal. “He’s going to take you and he’s going to break you. He wants your brain – he wants you to build him weapons, just like Zola did,”

“Are you listening to me, Stark?” The Skull roared. He threw a rock at the barn; it smashed through the wall, flying past Tony’s shoulder.

Tony shifted Steve again. He glanced up at the ceiling. He could go out through the roof – it looked safe enough, but with a naked Steve in his arms, it might not be the best idea. “Jarvis? ETA on the others?”

“They are still ten minutes away,” Jarvis said. “I would advise taking cover somehow, sir. There are ten different Hydra-made AA guns outside and they are all operational,”

“This day just keeps getting better and better,” Tony muttered. His jet boots flared as he shot up towards the ceiling. The quick movement made it feel like someone had pulled on his leg; he whimpered into the headset, glad that Steve couldn’t hear him. The only places that would provide cover were the ceiling and the hole in the floor, and he had no intention of returning there – not with the LMD waiting in the darkness.

“Tony,” Steve whispered, resting his cheek against the armor. “He’s going to get you. You need to leave me and go,”

“I’m not leaving you,” Tony hissed, curling around Steve as much as possible, keeping his balance with his good leg. “Jesus, Steve. Don’t even _say_ that. I’m not leaving you,”

“He can’t have you,” Steve mumbled. He blinked slowly. “Tony?”

“I’m right here, Steve,” Tony said. “Are you alright?” He gave Steve a scan, letting Jarvis compile the results so he could focus on searching for an exit. With AA guns outside – ones he couldn’t hack, because they were modified, and fucking _ancient_ – it was too dangerous to fly out without cover. He would need to be fast, and he couldn’t do that with a serum-less, injured, naked, Steve held in his arms – even if Steve had been healthy, it would have been a challenge with only one dependable jetboot. He could launch missiles, maybe take out half of the AA guns, but there was a seventy five percent chance that at least one would make it through while his hands were occupied. “Jarvis – tell them to hurry,” Tony said. He didn’t like their odds. Even if it was just the Skull waiting for him out there and a few AA guns, the guy was a goddamned super soldier.

The Skull didn’t seem to be willing to wait patiently. He kicked his way through one of the walls and smiled thinly up at Tony, his hands held behind his back. He balanced on the tips of his toes. “Still trying to escape, I see,” he said. “If you surrender now, I will spare the boy,”

“He’s not a _boy_ ,” Tony snapped, trying and failing to get a look at what the Skull had behind his back. “And I’m not surrendering,”

“The Captain is useless to me,” The Skull continued, calmly. “I do not need him – you on the other hand, well _you_ are needed. I am willing to let your Captain go in exchange for you and your genius. Wouldn’t that be nice? He can go home and all you need to do, Stark, is come with me. I’ll even leave the Captain a blanket so he won’t freeze to death,”

“You’re a bastard,” Tony growled. “I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth,”

“I don’t see what my _heritage_ has to do with your decision, but fine,” the Skull said, sneering up at Tony. He pulled his hands out from behind his back, revealing a grappling hook. “Go ahead and act childish.” The Skull hurled it through the air; he was as fast as Steve – perhaps faster and his aim was true even in the dimly lit barn. The grappling hook snagged Tony’s injured leg and wrapped tightly as it spun on its wire. Tony yelped as he and Steve were forcibly yanked away from the roof. He barely had the time to roll onto his back so Steve wouldn’t end up crushed beneath him before they hit the ground. The suit’s HUD flickered and went black; the repulsors crackled and died. He flailed in the darkness, blinded by his own technology, gasping as the arc reactor stuttered in his chest.

Something hit Tony in the shoulder. Steve grunted from somewhere to his left.

Tony managed to lift a hand up to the suit’s faceplate. He pulled it open in time to see Steve take a blow to the gut from the Skull’s heavy boot.

The Skull yanked on the grappling hook; the wire wrapped itself tighter around Tony’s leg, seeming to slither until it was bound tightly again. He used it to drag Tony across the ground. “Now,” he drawled. “Do you like my new toy?”

Tony screamed. The suit was deadweight, around him. He clawed at the grappling hook, trying to get it free, hoping his heart wouldn’t give out as the arc reactor flickered and struggled to stay lit. The suit would reboot – it had to reboot – why wasn’t it rebooting?

The Skull kicked Tony’s hand free from the grappling hook and slammed his foot down on Tony’s gauntleted arm. The metal dented; the bones in his forearm broke.

Tony’s screams turned shrill.

“It’s a lovely toy, isn’t it? The wire is delightful. Your old friends in AIM thought I might need it if I wanted to take your suit offline,” the Skull drawled, bending down over top of Tony. He seized the chestplate and yanked, shaking Tony like a dog might shake a stuffed toy.

Tony whimpered and tried to kick at the Skull with his good leg, but the move was too slow. The Skull batted Tony’s leg away, laughing and dug his fingers into the armor, tearing holes into the metal. This wasn’t just super strength; the gloves had to be lined with something to keep them from splitting. “Stay _still_ , Stark,” the Skull growled. “Or I’m not going to be gentle with you,”

Tony’s chest felt tight. He choked in a breath and punched at the Skull’s chin, trying to get him to let go.

The Skull laughed. “Really? That’s the best you have?”

Tony’s vision swam. The reactor felt like it was an anvil sitting on his chest.

The Skull tore the chestplate off and tossed it away. He rolled Tony over, tearing the back of the suit off and then reached for the suit’s lower half, seizing Tony’s damaged leg first. He tugged, drawing another half-smothered sob from Tony’s lips.

“Get the _fuck_ off of him,” Steve slurred, struggling upright. He picked up the torn chestplate like it was his shield and charged forwards, smashing into the Skull. It probably wasn’t his weight that knocked the Skull off of Tony and into the hole in the floor; it was probably the shock that did it, but it was wonderful all the same.

Steve wasted no time. He grabbed Tony by his good arm and dragged him across the floor, his muscles straining as he moved, getting them as far away from the hole as possible. He leaned over Tony, panting, his eyes widening when he caught sight of the flickering arc reactor.

“Get the grappling hook off of me,” Tony gasped, fighting off the blackness that threatened to swallow him whole.

Steve’s nimble fingers made short work of the grappling hook’s cord. He heaved it as far away as he could and then knelt down, his fingers hovering over top of Tony’s shoulder. The arc reactor flickered and then returned to full power, nearly blinding Steve in the process; Steve rocked back on his heels with a gasp.

Tony coughed weakly and sat up, trying not to put too much pressure on his broken leg and arm. “That feels so much better,” he wheezed, rubbing at the skin around the reactor. He glanced over his shoulder at the hole in the ground.

The Skull roared; something thudded down below.

“I guess that’s our signal to get the fuck out of here,” Tony said. He scrambled upright, bracing himself against Steve. “We need to get outside – now,”

“Right,” Steve said, giving his head a shake. Together, they staggered towards the door.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you spot anything weird! :D Thanks for reading!


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony really, really, hated the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if anything weird is in here! The next chapter is going to be the last one, but there will be an epilogue afterwards ; ) Thanks for reading! You guys have made it so much fun to write!

They made it out of the barn and started towards the first line of AA guns; to Tony’s relief they were safe from harm. The guns remained lifeless, still pointed up at the sky like tipsy sailors mesmerized by the stars. They snuck away as rain started to fall, glancing over their shoulders in case the Skull had somehow managed to find his way out of the hole in the barn floor. The grass here was long enough to reach their knees. The reddish slices in Steve’s skin made him want to pick Steve up and carry him, but that wasn’t an option; he could barely stand on his own. Carrying something – anything – would have knocked him on his ass and he wasn’t so sure he would be able to get up again.

With no other buildings around other than the barn, the grass was as much cover as they were going to get. Steve helped Tony sit down, eyeing Tony’s damaged arm and leg. He gave his head a shake and then rubbed his eyes.

After a few failed attempts to get the helmet off with his good hand, Tony bowed his head. “Can you take the helmet off of me?” he asked.

Steve frowned. “Is something wrong with it?”

“Jarvis’ system isn’t working anymore,” Tony muttered, ashamed that his own technology had failed him. “Whatever it was that was in that grappling hook fried everything.” There wasn’t much the helmet could do now, aside from simply working as a helmet. Tony patted along the suit’s inner thigh and found the hidden toolkit in the lower leg’s outer casing. At least he had this much of the suit left to work with. The kit he kept here didn’t have the best tools, but it had enough to get by with in an emergency; that was why he had started including them in the newer suit iterations. He unfolded the toolkit set it on his thigh, carefully choosing the screwdriver that was best for the job.

“Hold still,” Steve said. He reached around and delicately eased the helmet up and off of Tony’s head. He set it down in Tony’s lap and then curled himself into a ball, wrapping his arms around his knees. He was shivering violently now, flinching as the rain spattered his skin. “Do you think you can fix it?” he asked through chattering teeth.

“The helmet? Yeah, I can fix it, but it’ll take me a while,” Tony said. He grasped the collar of his shirt and tugged it up, gasping in pain when he bumped his bad arm.

“Tony,” Steve mumbled. “You don’t need to do that,”

“Yes I do,” Tony said, getting his shirt off. He handed it to Steve, glad that he could finally offer something to ease Steve’s suffering. “I know it’s wet and everything, but at least it’s something,”

Steve didn’t argue. He smiled softly and pulled the shirt over his head; it was miles too big, and hung down around his thighs but still, he seemed happy with it. “Thanks,”

“Not a problem,” Tony said. He wiped the rain off of the tip of his nose and flipped the helmet over, settling it between his knees so he could get a better look at the inner circuitry. He would have preferred being out of the rain for this particular task, but it here or nowhere.

With a broken lower right leg and left arm, things proved trickier than Tony would have liked. He poked around inside the helmet with the screwdriver and fumbled with a blackened panel, pursing his lips at the damage he saw. The helmet could be fixed, but the power wouldn’t last long – not with Jarvis utilizing most of it. The internal battery was just about dead, and unless he found a way to connect it to the arc reactor, it was going to be useless far too soon to be of any real use. Somehow, he didn’t think he was going to find spare wires just lying around out in the grass. “The others should be here in ten minutes, give or take a few,” he said, trying to keep calm. He glanced over to the barn, and thankfully it remained quiet.

“That’s good,” Steve said. He was still shivering, but his teeth had stopped chattering. He scooted closer to Tony’s right side, flattening down the grass with his hand. “I’m glad you’re alright,”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “You’re glad _I’m_ alright?” He set his screwdriver down and wrapped his good arm around Steve’s shoulder and dragged him in closer. He winced when Steve’s leg brushed against his injured one, and felt calmer with the contact, even if it had hurt. He pressed a kiss to Steve’s hair. “I’m glad _you’re_ alright,”

“Tony,” Steve murmured, wrapping his arm around the small of Tony’s back. “Thank you,”

“For what?”

“For coming to get me,” Steve said. “You shouldn’t have, but I’m glad that you did,”

“There was no way in hell I was going to let him have you,” Tony snorted, resting his chin on the top of Steve’s head.

“You got hurt,” Steve mumbled.

“Tis but a scratch,” Tony said.

Steve chuckled. “ _Please_ don’t end up like the Black Knight. I don’t think I could take it if you tried to bite the Skull’s legs off,”

Tony smirked. “I’m glad you got that, because it would have been a pain in the ass to explain,”

Steve hummed in agreement. He glanced over at the barn. “Do you think he’s going to get out of there?”

“I hope not,” Tony muttered. “Those walls are smooth, so he shouldn’t have an easy time of it – unless he punches his way through the cement and makes himself some handholds. Oh god – I really, _really_ , hope he doesn’t do that,”

“They’ll find us before he gets out,” Steve said, quickly.

“Sure,” Tony said, nodding along. The pain in his leg and arm flared brightly as he shifted in place; he picked up the screwdriver again. The medic at the tower was going to kick his ass when she saw him again. He was getting tired of having to go back there – it felt like he was there at least once a week these days! He poked around in the helmet again and finished repairing a lose wire. This was the best he could do. If he was lucky, he would have five minutes of power to work with before the helmet fizzled out. Hopefully, they wouldn’t need to use it.

“So,” Tony said, trying to take his mind off of the pain in his leg and arm, “How did they catch you anyway?”

Steve sighed and shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. “We had team bonding night planned out,”

“Yeah,” Tony snorted. “I heard,”

Steve’s face fell. “I didn’t mean to leave you out of it,”

“I know, I know,” Tony sighed. He patted Steve’s shoulder. “I’m not mad at you. I had pizza – I was fine – I _am_ fine. So what happened?”

“Natasha bought the tickets for the movie online and printed them out,” Steve murmured. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked slowly, wiping rain off of his brow. “She gave me mine ahead of time because I wanted to get in a run before the movie,”

“Jarvis said the SHIELD team watching you was already dead for a few hours,” Tony said, carefully. “How long was this run of yours?”

Steve flushed. “When I say _run_ , I didn’t actually mean _run_.”

“So what were you doing?”

“I was walking around the park,”

“For a few _hours_?” Tony asked, flabbergasted. “What park was this? Please tell me you weren’t wandering around Central Park alone,”

Steve scowled and glared down at his feet. “I wasn’t at Central park. I was at the little one by the bagel shop. You know the place,”

“Steve,” Tony sighed. “That’s a dog park,”

“I know that,” Steve grumbled, smacking Tony’s knee. “I’m not stupid,”

“I didn’t say you were,” Tony said with a soft smile. “But why were you walking around a dog park?”

“I like it there, _alright_?” Steve snapped, wrapping his arms around his knees again. “It’s got plenty of nice places to sit when I get tired, and no one stares at me,”

“It does seem comfortable,” Tony agreed.

Steve looked up. “You’ve been there?”

“Once or twice,” Tony said, shrugging. “There was this funny looking pug that used to be there all the time. I like watching it fall on its face after boring meetings,”

Steve chuckled softly. “I think I know the dog you’re talking about,”

“Yeah?”

“His name is Muffin. He kind of rolls along the ground after the ball instead of chasing it,”

“That sounds like the right pug,” Tony chuckled. “I think I’m going to need to go to the dog park more often,”

“I hope everyone is ok,” Steve said, putting his face in his hands. “All the regulars were there,”

“They took you in broad daylight?” Tony asked, frowning. That was brazen, even for Hydra. How had Jarvis not heard about the kidnapping until so late in the evening? _Someone_ had to have seen something – unless Hydra killed everyone around. But even then, there was no way to get rid of so many bodies without attracting attention. New Yorkers might always be busy, but they weren’t goddamned blind.

“They weren’t exactly in uniforms,” Steve muttered. “I was sitting on a bench a few feet away from the exit and they just walked up, smiling at me. I thought they were with SHIELD at first – until they started sticking their guns in my face.”

“You surrendered?” Tony asked, curious.

“What choice did I have?” Steve said with a sigh. “I had no cover, no weapons and no super strength. There were at least fifteen people around us and that didn’t even count the animals. Someone would have been hurt if I had put up a fight,”

“Alright,” Tony said soothingly. He squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “I believe you – its fine. You made the right call,”

“I don’t know what happened after they took me to their van,” Steve said. “They put a bag over my head and then someone stuck a needle in my arm. I blacked out, and when I woke up I was woozy as hell and tied naked to a cold metal chair,”

Tony winced.

Steve snorted. “I think they thought I would be embarrassed,”

“And you weren’t?”

Steve flushed again. “Of course I was – but I was in the army. Hell, I was in _high school_. I’ve been tied naked to flag poles before. That’s what bullies like to do. It’s nothing new,”

“I know what you mean,” Tony said, clearing his throat. “High school was hell.”

Steve shrugged and wrapped his arms around his middle again.

“I heard you on the phone,” Tony said after a minute.

Steve looked miserable. He shifted until he was closer to Tony. “They beat me up,” he said. “It hurt and all, but I guess I’m just used to it. It didn’t really bother me – not at first.”

“Well it bothered me,” Tony growled.

Steve looked up sharply. “I know – and I’m sorry you had to hear me like that,”

“Steve,” Tony sighed, “Honey, I was _scared_. I thought he was going to make them tear you to pieces,”

Steve reached out and rested his hand on Tony’s knee. “I’m alright. I feel like shit, but I’m fine,”

“You don’t look fine,” Tony grumbled, flattening down Steve’s hair.

“Alright, well I’ll _be_ fine,” Steve insisted. “I just wish everything didn’t look so funny,”

“Funny?” Tony frowned. “What do you mean, _funny_?”

Steve squirmed under Tony’s gaze. “Everything is slightly out of focus – and it’s all kind of… glowy,”

“Glowy?” Tony said, sharply. He reached out with his good hand and cupped Steve’s face, looking him over. Steve’s left eye was a little bloodshot and there was a lovely purple bruise blooming on his chin and cheek, but it didn’t look like he had been hit in the head with a two-by-four or anything equally dangerous. He felt along Steve’s jaw, looking for signs of pain in Steve’s face and then felt along Steve’s scalp.

“Tony,” Steve said softly, smiling despite his split lip. “I’m fine. Really. I’m drugged – not concussed,”

“How do you know?” Tony snapped. He let out a shaky breath and stroked Steve’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Steve said, leaning into Tony’s touch.

“They didn’t hit you in the head, did they?” Tony asked.

“The split lip is from when I slipped and fell while they were getting me from the car to wherever it was they taking me. The bruises are probably from that too. They didn’t like hitting me in the face for some reason,” Steve said. He glanced around at the barn. “It didn’t happen here – I was a bunch of cement rooms that smelled like metal and ash. This place smells too much like fresh grass.”

“How long do you think you were in transit?” Tony asked. It wouldn’t be hard to figure out where Steve had been taken, knowing that the kidnapping had taken place at the dog park. He would give the information to Jarvis when they got back home, and maybe something would come of it.

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “I think they took me somewhere outside of the city. There wasn’t a lot to hear aside from birds chirping,”

“Alright, well, don’t worry about it. We’ll find the place eventually,” Tony said. He put his toolkit back in the suit’s leg where he had found it and set the helmet on the ground.

“How are you doing?” Steve asked, glancing at Tony’s injured arm. “That looks pretty bad.”

“It hurts,” Tony shrugged. He winced when the movement jarred his arm and let out a strangled laugh. “I’m just lucky there’s an undamaged second dose of morphine still in the suit’s good leg – I’ll use it when we’re out in the clear,”

Steve glanced at the helmet. “How is that even going to work? Isn’t everything powered by the arc reactor?”

“I designed the suit to be useable even it was separated,” Tony said. “The helmet’s not going to last too long, but the injection is manual – it’s an emergency dose. All I have to do is open up the paneling and pry it out. It’ll be alright,”

Steve sneezed loudly. “Sorry,”

Tony smiled weakly. “So,”

“So,” Steve said, sneezing into his arm again.

“How was your conversation with Bucky?” Tony asked. He gnawed on his lower lip and tried not to look too suspicious. Technically, he wasn’t even supposed to know that the conversation had taken place, but he couldn’t help himself.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think this is the time or place to have that discussion,”

Tony scowled and slumped forwards. “Aw, come on,”

“No, Tony,” Steve said, shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk about it,”

“Not even a little?”

“Not even a little,” Steve grumbled. “Can you just drop it?”

“Fine,” Tony said. “But I want you to know that I –”

They both turned when they heard something in the distance. At first, Tony was sure it was Rhodey and the others arriving with fanfare, but the sight of headlights told him that it wasn’t his friends headed their way. Rhodey wouldn’t have stopped off to get a van – not when two of their three-man-team had suits to get them where they needed to go.

Steve helped Tony turn over; they lay down on their bellies, side by side, watching the road, peering out through the grass. Tony hoped that they weren’t too easy to spot. With the repulsors down, they had nothing to fight with unless they wanted to try and take down whoever it was with a few strands of wet grass and some mud. He knew Steve was a tactical genius, but even Steve would have problems pulling something like that off.

Steve felt around and came up with a handful of rough stones. “Do you think it’s Hydra?” he whispered.

Tony nodded. Even without the suit’s long-range cameras, he could make out a man in the driver’s seat; the bastard was wearing a bullet proof vest and while that didn’t definitively say Hydra, the speed the van was traveling at made it clear that this was familiar territory. Tony squinted, wiping rain off of his nose. He couldn’t make out anyone else and that scared him. The blue van was riding low, its wheels and undercarriage slick with mud and grass. He hoped there weren’t too many other people inside.

The van drove closer, its windshield wipers flapping back and forth so fast they were mostly a blur. The rain started coming down harder, slamming into everything it touched.

Tony shivered beside Steve; their teeth chattered in unison. He let out a slow, pleased, sigh. The cold numbed his leg and arm enough to make the pain reasonably tolerable. The rain would give them cover, but it wasn’t going to make it any easier to get up now that the ground was mushy. He felt around for the helmet and reeled it in close, ready to pull it on.

The van stopped in a puddle; the engine turned off.

Tony and Steve froze, breathing slowly and quietly.

The driver’s side door opened and the driver got out, glancing around as though looking for someone. When he didn’t see whoever it was he was looking for, he thudded his fist against the roof of the car. The side doors slid open with a squeal. Ten men got out; they were all wearing body armor and heavily armed, holding AK47’s in their hands. They circled the van and then turned to face the barn.

“Sir?” one of the men called out. “Are you here?”

There was no response. Sir – likely the Skull – either wasn’t able to yell loud enough to be heard over the rain or he had shouted himself hoarse.

Tony pulled the helmet on and prayed that he could connect to Jarvis before the power died. The sound of the helmet locking in place drew unwanted attention.

Two of the armed men turned around, glancing over to where Tony and Steve lay hidden. They lifted their weapons, but didn’t move.

“Jarvis,” Tony whispered into the helmet. “ETA?”

“Colonel Rhodes and the others are three minutes away. Please hold on and stay out of sight, sir,” Jarvis said quickly, seeming to know that the power wasn’t going to last. “There are eleven men surrounding you and they appear to be heavily armed,”

“Yeah,” Tony snorted. “I got that part. Tell Rhodey to hurry,”

The armed men walked the perimeter of the barn, checking for signs of unwanted guests. They seemed unafraid of the damage they saw to the wood, and while a few of them turned a little green when they glanced into the barn itself, none of them seemed very surprised by that they saw. The driver took out his radio and turned away, his voice lost in the wind and rain.

Tony took the helmet off as the battery drained of its last few drops of energy and set it down beside him, thankful for the night sky. He kept it close at hand, knowing that if worse came to worse, he could use it as a club.

The stars seemed brighter than usual. Tony kept close to Steve, keenly aware of the rain. Rhodey and the others would get here soon, he thought. They would come. It would be fine.

“They’re over here!” One of the armed men yelled.

Tony swore under his breath. He had hoped that they wouldn’t have thermal imagery at their disposal, but apparently they were better equipped than they looked. Tony and Steve ducked low, waiting until the men were close enough to see; they rose and staggered backwards, afraid of turning their backs with so many guns pointed at them. The men formed a circle around them with their weapons drawn; they turned on flashlights and glared at them in the bright light.

“Uh,” Tony said, looking around, “Hello,”

“ _Where_ is the Skull?” The driver asked.

“He’s in the _barn_ ,” Tony said. “Didn’t you check it?”

The driver stepped forwards, looking like he was going to club Tony with the butt of his gun.

Steve moved in front of Tony, a rock still held tightly in his hand. “I wouldn’t do that if I was you,”

“Oh fuck off, _brat_ ,” the driver snapped. He glowered at Tony over top of Steve’s head. “We checked the fucking _barn_ , Stark. There’s no one there,”

“The last time we saw him, he was in the huge hole in the floor,” Tony growled. “Come on – you guys can’t have missed that! The thing was huge!”

“You’re full of shit,” the driver hissed, “There’s no hole in the floor. You’re off your fucking _nut_ , Stark,”

Tony bristled but didn’t rise to the bait. Clearly, the Skull hadn’t revealed all of his secrets – even to his own men. “Who the hell are you guys anyway? Are you the welcome wagon? Because if you are, I’m not getting a very _welcome_ feeling from you – I want to see the manager,” Tony said.

“We’re _Hydra_ ,” one of the goons said with a snort. “Don’t play dumb,”

“You don’t exactly have nametags, so how can we know you’re telling the truth,”

“I don’t give a shit if you think we’re telling the truth or not. If the Skull isn’t here, then we’re leaving,” the driver said. “And you two are coming with us,”

“Like hell we are,” Tony said. He held up his good hand as though to fire his repulsors. The bastards might have guns, but they didn’t know that his repulsors didn’t work. It worked like a charm. The men scattered like frightened children; they didn’t even fire their weapons. Tony grinned as Steve started chucking rocks, nailing people one after another as they stumbled about in the dark. A blue flare in the distance had their attackers panicking even more. This time, they did open fire – blindly – aiming at the sky. The AA guns started firing off shells, woken by the new movement.

Tony cursed and stumbled over to the biggest of the AA guns with Steve at his side. He kicked at it, trying to knock it out of alignment, realizing belatedly that he was trying to kick with his injured leg; he swore and grabbed for his leg. Steve stuffed a handful of rocks down the cannon, sealing it up and dragged Tony backwards as the AA gun started sputtering. When it exploded, they were knocked off of their feet. Sprawling in the grass on his back, Tony stared up at the night sky; a gust of wind sent the rain tumbling diagonally and parted the clouds. He frowned when one of the stars seemed to be heading right at him.

Pepper landed silently, her hands raised, repulsors flaring and ready to go. She utilized Rescue’s magnetic powers and crushed the surrounding AA guns, killing them with ease. “What the hell were you trying to do?” she said, her voice modulated by the suit. “You could have gotten yourself killed,”

“We were trying to stop you from getting shot down,” Tony grunted. He lifted himself up onto his elbow and then collapsed back onto the ground. “On second thought, I’ll just stay down here,”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Steve said, dropping down to his knees beside Tony. He wrapped his arms around his middle as the rain started pounding down on them again, watching silently as the guards continued to fire at what they couldn’t see.

“Right,” Pepper said, sounding unconvinced. She stood guard over them as War Machine dropped down to the ground with Bucky hanging off him like a backpack. “It took you two long enough,” she said. She punched one of the guards in the face and sent him flying before he could open fire.

“Hey,” Rhodey grumbled, “ _You_ weren’t carrying anything. It’s not my fault I fly slower – blame Barnes for that,”

“Are you calling me _fat_ , Rhodes?” Bucky grumbled. He pulled his gun from its holster and fired, hitting four targets without even looking at them. After that, he seemed content to leave Rhodey to take care of the stragglers. He dropped down to his knees beside Steve, looking him over with a critical eye. “What’s with the shirt?” he asked, taking Steve by the chin.

Steve scowled at him, but allowed the manhandling. “They thought it would be funny to strip me down and beat the shit out of me,” he said.

“For the record,” Tony said, raising his head, “ _I_ didn’t think it was very funny,”

Steve smiled softly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “How much morphine are you on, Stark?” He let go of Steve’s chin, and turned his attention to Tony, frowning at what he saw.

“A lot,” Tony admitted. “Jarvis can tell you the numbers. Also, it’s probably not enough. Everything’s starting to hurt again,”

“I’m going to just assume that both your right leg and left arm are broken,” Bucky said, feeling along the dented gauntlet. He sighed when Tony yelped. “We’re going to have to take that off, you know,”

“You don’t need to do it here,” Tony grumbled, shaking his head. “Might as well wait till we’re home. It’s a good splint for now,”

“Fine,” Bucky grunted. He looked around and spotted the van. He smirked at it. “Oh _goodie_ – I see they left us a ride,” he said.

Rhodey took out the driver with a tranquilizer dart, and opened up his faceplate. “You guys should get out of here,” he said. “Pepper can go with you as your body guard,”

“You can’t take on the Skull by yourself,” Pepper snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “He _is_ here, right?”

“He’s here,” Steve said, gesturing to the barn. “He was trapped in the hole in the floor, but the way the goons were talking, he and it might not be there anymore,”

“Alright,” Rhodey said, flipping his faceplate back down. “I’m going to go scout it out. You two stay here,”

“Do I _look_ like backup to you?” Bucky growled.

“I don’t give a shit _what_ you look like,” Rhodey growled, heading towards the barn. “I’ll call if I need help,”

“Great,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “ _Asshole_ ,”

Pepper smacked Bucky in the head. “Quiet, you,”

Bucky rubbed the back of his head. “You’ve got _mean_ friends, Stark,”

“They’re not so bad, Tony said, shooting Steve a lopsided grin.

Steve chuckled.

“Alright loverboy,” Bucky grumbled, reaching for Tony’s good arm. “Let’s get you into the van before you two freeze to death.” He helped Tony sit up and then heaved him upright with Steve’s help.

Steve tucked himself under Tony’s bad arm, letting Tony lean against him. “Come on. Upsy-daisy. Let’s go sit in the nice, warm, van,”

Bucky ducked under Tony’s other arm. Together, they marched Tony to the van as Pepper walked beside them, keeping an eye out for enemies.

 

Tony had never truly appreciated the heaters in vans before now; he stretched out on the seat, lounging underneath the heat vent, soaking up warmth. The van was comfortable now that they had cracked the window to let out the foul body odor the Hydra agents had left behind. Steve sat on the floor beside Tony, looking through the collection of uniforms he had found in a plastic box under the back seat. Some of what was here was bizarre, even by Hydra’s standards.

Steve picked up the bottom half a dog catcher’s uniform and scowled at it. “Where do you think they were going to use this?” he asked.

“Maybe they were planning on kidnapping some rich guy’s dog or something,” Tony said, his eyes half closed. “I’ve heard there’s good money in that,”

Pepper chuckled, having heard them through the open window. She was leaning up against the side of the car, keeping watch with Bucky at her side. “He’s right about that,” she said. “People will do anything for money,”

“Dogs are kidnapped and held for ransom?” Steve asked, looking perplexed.

“Sadly, yes,” Pepper said. “That’s why I don’t have a dog,”

“That and Happy is allergic to them,” Tony said. The morphine was doing its job, but it wouldn’t last forever; he was glad for the reprieve, although he hated how floaty the morphine made him.

“Well that’s just plain _wrong_ ,” Steve muttered, pulling out the cleanest pair of pants he could find in the pile. They were red and green, and looked a bit like golf pants; he tugged them on one leg at a time despite the fact that they were hideous, bracing himself against the door so he wouldn’t fall over.

“What? The allergies? I don’t think Happy really has a choice when it comes to those,” Tony mumbled.

Steve rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean,”

“It wouldn’t be as much fun if I didn’t,” Tony giggled.

Steve smiled fondly at Tony and went back to digging around in the uniforms. He found a large button up shirt – one that had a smiling hamburger stitched onto the front pocket – and spread it out on top of Tony, covering up his bare chest.

“What are you doing?” Tony asked, opening one eye a crack.

“There aren’t any blankets,” Steve said, leaning back against the edge of the seat. He sat down with a wince. “I’m improvising,”

“That’s sweet of you,” Tony mumbled. “I like that you’re keeping me warm,”

Steve turned and glanced at Tony. “You’re _really_ high on morphine right now, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” Tony said. He had manually injected the last of the suit’s supply after they had made it to the van. If he was lucky, it might even last all the way back to New York, although he kind of doubted that it would.

 

“Any luck finding the Skull?” Bucky called out as Rhodey stalked out of the barn.

Rhodey shook his head. “The floor’s sealed up nice and tight down there. I can see signs of cracks, but other than that, I found squat – well,” he sighed, “aside from all the body parts.”

Pepper winced. “That’s lovely. Thank you,”

“That’s the Red Skull for you,” Steve said, grimly. “I’m not surprised he had an escape route. He’s always been kind of cagey like that.”

“Well, at least he’s following the same protocols,” Rhodey grumbles. “It’ll make him easier to find,

“I hope so, because if you guys aren’t picking up any heat signatures, he’s probably long gone by now,” Steve said.

“Most likely,” Rhodey said. “Jarvis scanned the place but he didn’t get much. There are jamming devices everywhere and he’s spread them out so we can’t find his escape route. We won’t really know what’s under the barn until we crack open the slab, and I’m not planning on doing that alone. I radioed in to SHIELD, and they say they’ll have this place surrounded in an hour.”

“They’re en route?” Bucky asked.

“They’re headed out in cars. According to Jarvis, they got stuck in traffic,”

“They got stuck in _traffic_?” Tony giggled. “Oh god. What the hell were they doing?”

Rhodey sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “They were busy beating the shit out of giant Octopi, Tony. All of the Quinjets are down for maintenance. I told you about that already, remember?”

“I know,” Tony snorted. “But it’s just too _funny_ ,”

“Yes,” Bucky said, squinting into the car at Tony, “Funny is the word I would use. Maybe we should start driving now – you know, if we plan on making it to the Tower before his happy juice wears off,”

Pepper flipped her faceplate up. “Alright. So, Rhodey is staying here, and you and I are taking our sweethearts home?” she asked, smiling at Tony.

Tony flipped her the bird and then settled back down under the warm shirt, humming contentedly to himself.

“Sounds good to me,” Rhodey chuckled. “If I find anything, I’ll let you guys know.”

“Roger that,” Bucky said, moving around the front of the car. He pulled open the driver’s side door, and grumbled to himself when he dented the door handle as he got in.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to drive without ripping the steering wheel off?” Pepper asked, closing the face plate. She didn’t wait for a response before launching herself into the air.

“I’ll be fine,” Bucky grumbled, pulling on his seat belt. He turned around and glanced at Steve. “Help him sit up and belt him in. I don’t want him rolling off of the seat and hurting himself if we get spotted by more Hydra agents,”

Steve nodded and staggered upright, gently patting Tony’s shoulder to get his attention. “Did you hear any of that Tony?”

Tony blinked slowly at Steve. “Why are you a giant burrito?”

Steve smiled softly. “Just listen to the burrito and sit up,” he said. He turned to Bucky, chuckling. “Give me a minute and I’ll get him settled in,”

Bucky snorted. “You gotta love morphine,”

 

 

Tony woke up as they pulled into the Tower’s private parking lot. He grimaced and smacked his lips, irritated by the way his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with sweaty cotton balls. “Are we there yet?” he mumbled.

Bucky groaned, stepped on the brakes and killed the engine. He turned around slowly, his eyes narrowed. “Do you _have_ to keep saying that?”

“I’ve said it before?” Tony asked with a frown. He was still a little fuzzy from the morphine, but he was pretty sure he had been asleep for the entire trip. Maybe he had been awake after all. But that couldn’t be right – there _definitely_ wasn’t a giant burrito sitting in the van, so he had to have been asleep.

“Leave him alone, Buck,” Steve murmured. He reached out and unbuckled Tony’s seatbelt, his fingers gentle against Tony’s bare belly. The shirt that had been blanketing Tony from shoulder to hip dropped down and fell to the floor; Tony missed its warmth. He slumped forwards to grab for it. Steve caught him in time to keep him from braining himself on the seat in front of him.

“Jeeze, Tony,” Steve muttered, pushing Tony upright. “Careful!”

Tony snorted and blew a raspberry. “I _am_ being careful. I’m _always_ careful. I’m cold,”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow. “Are we _absolutely_ sure he didn’t get smacked in the head?”

Steve smiled softly and slid open the door.

Pepper walked up to them with a wheelchair; she wasn’t wearing the Rescue suit anymore, and was instead dressed in a pair of loose sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. Her sneakers squeaked against the concerete. She gave Tony a wave. He waved back at her, grinning madly.

“Hey! Pep, Pepper, Pep, Pep, Pep,” Tony said, blinking slowly.

“That’s it – no more self-medicating for you,” she sighed, wearily. She helped Steve ease Tony out of the van and smiled when they got him into the wheelchair without dropping him. Bucky skulked along behind them.

“He’ll be fine,” Steve said, noticing the way Bucky was watching Tony.

“I’m not worried about _him_. I’m worried about the van. What do you want to do with it?” Bucky asked, as they started towards the elevator.

“Leave it where it is,” Pepper said. “Jarvis will keep an eye on it. I doubt it’s going to be any trouble. The security in this place would have picked it up by now if it was.”

They reached the elevator and called it. Pepper leaned against the wheelchair’s handlebars. She smoothed down Tony’s hair, frowning at it. “You look like hell,” she said. “And you’re covered in grass and mud.”

Tony smiled widely up at her. “I feel _great_ ,” he said. He winced and glared down at his arm. “Ok, that wasn’t so great, but I _felt_ great. Does that make sense?”

“Does morphine always make him this loopy?” Steve asked, sharing a look with Pepper.

Pepper nodded. “He’s usually pretty good with it, but ever since the arc reactor was put in, he’s had problems with high doses. Thankfully it’s nothing major – he just talks your ear off and drools on the furniture.”

“I guess we’d better stock up on wet wipes,” Bucky snorted.

Tony turned in the wheelchair to glare at Bucky. “You _suck_ ,”

Bucky rolled his eyes and got out of the way so Pepper could roll Tony into the elevator. He stepped inside with Steve and leaned up against the wall, making himself comfortable there against the security bars. “You have no idea, Stark,” he muttered.

 

It took them a full minute to get up to the medical wing; Jarvis made sure they weren’t stopped or delayed.

Tony giggled at his reflection in the doors as they opened. He waved to the medics. They exchanged looks and nervously waved back.

“I take it he’s doped up?” Mirabelle, the head medic, asked.

“Yes,” Pepper grumbled. “He’s broken his leg and his arm. It happened a few hours ago but he still hasn’t really come down back to earth. Jarvis has the doses,”

“We’ll take him from here, Ms. Potts,” Mirabelle said, kindly. She moved slowly around Tony as to not startle him and pushed the wheelchair further down the hall. He grinned up at her.

“Please don’t kick my ass,” Tony said.

“Why would I kick you in the ass?” Mirabelle asked, looking startled.

Tony frowned. “I don’t remember, but there was a reason. I think it had to do with me being here again,”

Mirabelle sighed and patted Tony gently on the shoulder. “I think I know what you mean. It’s alright, Mr. Stark. I’m not going to kick you for being back here again, even though I did tell you to stay out of trouble,”

“Ok,” Tony said, yawning loudly. “Hey, is there any pie up here?”

“No, Mr. Stark,” Mirabelle said with a laugh. “There isn’t any pie, but I can tell one of your friends to bring you some later,”

“That’s a good idea,” Tony nodded.

“Oh, and Mr. Rogers?” Mirabelle called over her shoulder.

Steve cleared his throat, trying to nonchalantly wrap his arm around his middle. “Yes?”

“You need to get looked at too,” Mirabelle said. “Don’t sneak off. I _will_ hunt you down if you do,”

Steve hung his head and followed them down the hall. “I’m alright, really,”

“Sure you are,” Mirabelle said, smiling thinly. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Why don’t you go with Sam and she’ll look you over.” She nodded to another medic, a woman with a blonde hair and a smile that was almost _too_ cheerful.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, Mr. Rogers,” Sam said. Steve ducked his head and followed her out of the room.

 

 

Tony woke up with a snort and looked around. “Oh shit,” he grumbled, realizing where he was. “I guess that wasn’t a dream, huh?”

Steve squeezed Tony’s hand gently. “No, it wasn’t,” he said. He was dressed in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. His face was bruised; his eyes were tired, but he was smiling. “You’ve been out for a day and a half,”

“I figured,” Tony said. He glanced down and groaned when he saw that his right leg and left arm were in heavy, white casts. “Aww, man!”

Steve chuckled. “You’ve going to have to leave them on for a few weeks until the bones heal,”

“I know, I know,” Tony sighed. “I was sort of hoping it wouldn’t be that bad,”

“Well,” Steve said, shifting closer until he was sitting on the edge of the bed instead of his chair. “Look at it this way. There’s plenty of space to draw on them,”

Tony squinted at Steve. “That’s not a _good_ thing!”

Steve frowned and pulled away. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve met Clint before, haven’t you?” Tony grumbled, glaring down at the cast on his arm. He _hated_ casts. Every time he got one, someone decided to draw on them, and there had never been anything nice to look at once they were done. “There are going to be penises on every fucking inch of this thing by the time Clint’s done with it,” Tony grunted, lifting up his cast.

Steve burst into laughter. He reached out and pulled a black sharpie out of his pocket and held it up.

“I see you came prepared,” Tony said. “Please tell me you’re not going to draw penises on my arm,”

“Of course I did, and no, I’m not going to draw penises on your arm,” Steve chuckled. “Tell you what, I’ll fill up all the space if you want. I’ll make you a panorama of the city,”

Tony grinned. “Sure,” he said. “There’s plenty of space. You can throw a few Iron Man suits in there, if you want. And some Captain America. I’ve heard he’s pretty cool too,”

Steve smirked. “Alright – I think I can do that,” he said. He uncapped the sharpie and pulled Tony’s arm into his lap. His thigh pressed up against Tony’s. He hummed while he worked, drawing lines and boxes that looked like they had been done with the aid of rulers. It had been a long time since Tony had been impressed with art. He had known that Steve was an artist, of course – the kid had been pretty artsy himself – but he had never seen any of Steve’s work; the guy had hidden his sketchbooks away like they were dirty magazines, and while Tony could have easily found them with Jarvis’ help, he hadn’t been willing to break Steve’s trust that way. If Steve wanted him to see what he sketched, then he would show it to him. For now, he was pleased that he got to watch Steve work. The buildings took shape quickly, ringing their way around the cast. Windows appeared amongst the larger boxes as if they had been put there by magic.

Tony cleared his throat. “I take it you draw buildings a lot,” he said, unsure of what to do now that his arm was trapped in Steve’s grasp.

Steve nodded but didn’t look up. His sharpie moved flawlessly, putting in trees and planters with ease. “I used to draw inanimate objects all the time when I was little,” he said, finishing a park bench. “There wasn’t a while lot of people in my apartment, so I drew what I had on hand,”

“I take it you spent a lot of time at home then,” Tony said, watching as Steve started working on a motorcycle.

Steve put the finishing touches on the motorcycle’s front wheel. “Ma had to work all the time to pay my medical bills and I couldn’t exactly hang around at work with her when I was busy coughing up a lung.” He smiled sadly. “You would have liked her,”

“Oh?” Tony asked.

“Yeah,” Steve said, looking up. “She liked people who didn’t put up with bullshit,”

Tony smiled. He reached out and ruffled Steve’s hair. “I guess she really loved _you_ , huh?”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I did,” he said, turning Tony’s arm around. He started sketching in a car; the wheels were perfectly round, spaced in a way that it looked like the thing was going to roll straight off the side of the cast.

Tony tried to stay focused on Steve’s work, but he found his concentration slipping. The need to find out what had been said to Bucky started gnawing at him; the pull was too strong, and even though he knew it would likely spoil the mood, he asked anyway. “So how was your talk with Bucky?” he asked.

Steve paused; the sharpie hovered over Tony’s cast.

“I mean, I know it’s not any of my business,” Tony said, hastily. “I just wanted to make sure you guys were ok,”

Steve started drawing again, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I _think_ we’re alright,” he said after a minute of quiet contemplation. “I don’t know. I kind of get the feeling like he’s mad at me, but he won’t say why.” Steve sighed and capped the sharpie. He set it down on the bed, his fingers moving to Tony’s hand. He traced the swirls on Tony’s palm where the cast met hand. “I feel like I don’t know him anymore,”

“He’s still your friend,” Tony said, softly.

“I know,” Steve said. “He just looks at me differently now,”

“What do you mean?”

“He gets this sad look in his eyes – like he’s done something awful – and then he wanders off. Half the time, he doesn’t even say hello when I walk into a room.” Steve sighed, stroking Tony’s thumb. “Natasha says I’m overthinking things, but I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to overthink someone not wanting to be in the same room with you,”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Tony murmured.

Steve snorted. “I wish I knew that for sure,”

“I think if he was mad at you, he’d tell you. He seems like that kind of guy,” Tony said. “Believe me, I’m pretty sure he hates my guts. I mean he hasn’t outright _said_ it, but I think he’s working up to it.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Steve said with a laugh. “He just doesn’t know how to act around you, that’s all,”

“I don’t know,” Tony said with a shrug. “I still think he’d like to punch me in the face,”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think he’s alright with you. I’ve seen him when he hates people, and he doesn’t look at you like that,” Steve said, softly. He looked up, a nervous smile spreading across his face. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Tony said. What was this about? Had he said something strange?

“The Skull didn’t _really_ get Extremis, did he?” Steve asked. “I mean, I remember you telling me that everything was fine, but I was kind of drugged up there too. I guess I just want to make sure I didn’t hallucinate the entire conversation,” he said.

“No, no. It’s ok. Extremis is taken care of,” Tony said. He had been wondering when Steve was going to bring Extremis up; it had only been a matter of time. “Believe me, I wasn’t going to leave it there for someone like the Skull to screw around with. The code I gave him was broken as hell. If he opens it, he’ll infect his system and end up leading me straight to him. He won’t be getting anywhere with it any time soon,” Tony said.

“That’s good,” Steve said. “I knew you had things under control, I just needed to ask.”

“No worries,” Tony said, patting Steve’s leg. “I should probably tell Coulson about that. SHIELD’s going to want a report. Hm. Maybe I can pawn it off on someone else. Do you think Captain America would write it for me if I asked nicely?”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve chuckled. “That’s _lazy_. Write your own reports,”

“Fine, fine,” Tony sighed dramatically. “I’ll be a good boy and write my own report – right after Coulson comes to tell me to write it.”

Steve rolled his eyes and picked up the sharpie again. He turned Tony’s arm over so he could start working on the upper half of it. “So how was your business trip?” he asked, sketching in something that looked delightfully like the Iron Man suit. He pulled a red, gold and silver triangular marker out of his pocket and set it on the blankets beside his knee.

“It was alright,” Tony said with a shrug. He grinned guiltily when Steve glared at him for moving his arm. “Sorry,”

“It’s _your_ cast,” Steve said. “If you want funky streaks all over it, that’s your business,”

“That’s harsh, Rogers,” Tony chuckled.

“It’s the truth,” Steve said, fixing the line he had drawn crookedly. He finished the outline of the suit and picked up the triangular marker. He filled in the white spaces with colour, making the suit pop out with red and gold. “But really – how was it? I heard you and Pepper had some trouble with one of the plant managers,”

“Yeah, the guy was a bit of dickwad, but we got rid of him in the end. He was billing the company for overtime and not paying it to the employees,” Tony said. “Believe me, everyone was _very_ happy to see him thrown out on his ass.”

“Sounds like you did a good job, then,” Steve said. He started drawing War Machine and Rescue flying beside the Iron Man. “I’m glad things went well. I was pretty sure you were going to catch flak for having to take care of me for so long,”

Tony ruffled Steve’s hair. “Nah, the board understands how important you are,” he said.

Steve flushed. “ _Tony_ ,”

“What?” Tony asked, faux innocently, carding his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“Never mind,” Steve sighed, rubbing his nose. He nearly got himself in the face with the sharpie.

“ _Careful_ ,” Tony chuckled. “I mean, my beard is pretty awesome, but you don’t need to draw one on yourself just for because it looks so _cool_ ,”

Steve smirked. “Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Stark?”

“What? You drawing a moustache on yourself?” Tony grinned. “I’d _love_ it,”

Steve leaned forwards. “Is that the only thing you’d love?”

Tony leaned closer. “There’s one other thing I’d love,” he said. He mover forwards, ready give Steve a kiss.

Bucky cleared his throat loudly.

Steve and Tony sprang apart, startled. Steve flushed beet red and slowly capped his sharpie.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Bucky said, hovering in the doorway, “But you told me to come get you when Natasha wanted to go get groceries,”

Tony glared full force at Bucky. _Groceries_? He had missed out on his first kiss with Steve because of _groceries_? He opened his mouth to tell Bucky to go shove his metal arm up his ass but didn’t have the time to say anything before Steve got up, shoving the sharpie in his pants pocket.

“Thanks, Bucky,” Steve said, shooting Bucky a smile. He glanced at Tony’s arm, and shrugged. “I guess I’m going to have to save you from Clint’s penises when I get back.”

Bucky blinked owlishly; he stepped out of the way when Steve walked past him, looking extremely confused. “What the fuck did I just hear?” he asked, dropping down into Steve’s abandoned chair.

Tony glowered at Bucky. “Why is it that you have the worst timing in the world?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugged. “I’m just lucky, I guess,”

Tony groaned and put his face in his hands, knocking himself in the nose with his cast. “I was _this_ close to kissing him,” he grumbled.

Bucky smiled; for a split second it didn’t look right, but then it went back to normal. “Well, suck it up, Stark. Shit happens,”

Tony scowled. “Really? That’s your answer? _Shit happens_?”

“Relax,” Bucky snorted. “It’ll be fine.” He reached out and grabbed Tony by the hand, turning the cast this way and that so he could get a look at the artwork on it. “Did Steve do all of this?”

“Yeah,” Tony grumbled, resisting the urge to yank his arm back.

“He’s always been good at drawing,” Bucky said, lifting Tony’s arm up so he could stare at the cyclist near Tony’s elbow. “He doesn’t show me what he draws anymore. I mean, he didn’t exactly show them to me when he was little either. I kind of rooted around in his room until I found them, but that’s not the point,”

“And this is my problem? _This_ is why you ruined my moment?” Tony asked.

Bucky snorted. “Oh don’t get your panties in a bunch, Stark. I’ll make it up to you,”

“Right,” Tony grumbled. “I _totally_ believe you,”

Bucky’s smile seemed to crack again. “Look – just trust me, alright? You’ll have the time to get him alone again,”

“Fine,” Tony said, leaning back against his pillows. “What’s next on my grueling agenda? Am I going to be serenaded to sleep? Or are you planning on drawing dicks on my casts too?”

“Very funny,” Bucky said, letting Tony’s arm drop. He glanced at Tony’s leg cast. “I don’t see any dicks,”

“Yeah, well,” Tony snorted. “Barton hasn’t been by to visit yet. There’s still time,”

“Ah,” Bucky said, nodding knowingly. “Right. Hold on a sec.” He got up and dashed for the nurse’s station.

“I’ll just stay right here then, alright?” Tony called out, crossing his arms over his chest. He winced when he bumped his chest with his cast. At least Steve’s visit had been nice – even if it had ended a little too abruptly. Steve definitely wasn’t avoiding him anymore and even if they hadn’t _quite_ kissed yet, it was very much an option – at least he hoped it was. Oh god – what if he had misunderstood what had happened? What if Steve _hadn’t_ been leaning in for a kiss?

Bucky sat down on the bed, and hoisted Tony’s leg into his lap.

Tony yelped, jarred from his thoughts. He hadn’t even heard Bucky return. “What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

Bucky grinned. He held the black sharpie aloft, looking down at the blank canvas that was Tony’s leg cast.

Tony’s eyes widened in horror. “Don’t you _dare_!”

“Oh, I dare,” Bucky said, grinning. He lowered the sharpie and started drawing.

 

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve get some alone time - finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! Here's part one of the last chapter. It grew so massive, I figured it would be easier to put things up if it was chopped in half ; ) The next chapter should be up In a few days! As usual, let me know if you spot anything weird of have questions!

Tony wasn’t quite sure why he was putting up with Bucky. Maybe it was because he was hopped-up on painkillers; maybe it was because the bastard kept feeding him delicious cookies, even while doodling on Tony’s leg cast with one of the largest sharpies Tony had ever seen. Maybe it was the lack of coffee and the quiet in the room. Whatever it was, by the time Bucky had finished with the cast, Tony was far less angry than he should have been.

Bucky capped the sharpie with a satisfied sigh. “All done,” 

“Am I going to have to  _ accidentally _ break my cast?” Tony asked, cracking open one eye. He propped himself up on his good elbow and tried to get a look at the leg cast, but he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of it before Bucky pulled the blanket up, obscuring his handiwork.

“Why don’t you take a nap, old man?” Bucky said, patting Tony’s knee. “You look like you could use one,”

Tony scowled. He opened his mouth to tell Bucky to go fuck himself with a rusty can bicycle and let out a sullen yawn instead. Great. Maybe he  _ was _ sleepy after all. He glared at his leg cast, wishing he had the energy to move. He wanted nothing more than to tear the blankets off and see what kind of disaster was waiting for him on his cast, and yet at the same time, he really,  _ really _ didn’t want to know what was on there. He sighed aloud, and let his head thump back against the pillows. He was stuck with it now and there was nothing he could do short of structural sabotage. He sank into his pillows and gave Bucky one last mournful stare. “It better look  _ nice _ ,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky chuckled. “You’ll like it – I promise.”

 

 

When Tony woke up hours later, he found Bucky still sitting at his bedside, studying his phone. The plate that had been left with only crumbs on it before his nap was sitting on the overtable stacked high with fresh, warm, hazelnut and chocolate shortbread cookies. Tony eyed the plate suspiciously. What was going on here? Was this Bucky’s way of making up for getting in the way earlier? Or was this some kind of dirty trick? Bucky seemed like the kind of guy who would put laxatives in his baking if he didn’t like you, and he was pretty sure Bucky didn’t like him. Were these death cookies?

Tony’s stomach grumbled. It was no use. The smell was too overpowering; he wanted a cookie. Accepting his fate, he reached for the plate and squawked indignantly when Bucky smacked his hand.

“What’s the big deal?” Tony growled, hugging his hand against his chest.

“Those are for later,” Bucky said, looking up from his phone. He tucked it into his pocket and gestured to the wheelchair parked beside Tony’s bed as though it was the fanciest sports car on the street and he was the one who owned it. The wheelchair hadn’t been there when Tony had fallen asleep, but he had seen it before; it was a regular here in Medical. Today, it was loaded up with blankets and pillows like some kind of portable throne.

“Get up. I’ve got to dump you off upstairs before I head out,” Bucky said.

“Why? You got a hot date?” Tony scowled and allowed himself to be lifted out of bed; his leg cast thumped pitifully against the bedframe. Bucky moved quickly, dragging Tony towards the wheelchair with his flesh-and-blood-arm wrapped gently around Tony’s waist. Tony grumbled as Bucky helped him sit down. It was embarrassing to be hefted around like a stuffed animal, but at least the wheelchair hadn’t rolled off on him. He tried to take a look at his leg cast as he settled amidst his pillows and cushions, but found it quickly covered up again with a new blanket.

“You know I’m not actually that injured, right?” Tony asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Bucky snorted. He snatched up the plate of cookies and set it down in Tony’s lap.

Tony reached for a cookie and had his hand smacked again. “OW!” he grunted. “Stop hitting me! I’m _injured_!”

“I’ll stop smacking you when you start listening,” Bucky grumbled back, slowly spinning the wheelchair around until they were facing the door. “And besides – I thought you said you _weren’t_ injured?” He pointed them towards the elevator and pushed off, sending them speeding through the halls.

Tony smirked when the on-call nurse glared at them. “You’re going to get us in _trouble_ ,” he sang as Bucky called the elevator.

Bucky chuckled. “They can’t yell at me if they can’t catch me,” he said. He scowled down at Tony’s bedhead. “I had a feeling we were going to need to fix that,”

“What?” Tony asked, frowning up at Bucky. “Fix _what_?”

“Your hair,” Bucky sighed. He pushed Tony into the elevator when it arrived and leaned against the wall, peering at Tony as they made their way up to the penthouse.

“So,” Tony said, grimacing at his reflection in the elevator’s shiny walls, “Are we escaping, or was I released?”

“ _Technically_ ,” Bucky said. “They didn’t say you _couldn’t_ leave,”

“Ah,” Tony nodded. “ _Technicalities_. I like that,”

“I knew you would,” Bucky chuckled. He pushed Tony out of the elevator and wheeled him over to the couch. A brush, towel and beard trimmer sat waiting on the coffee table. Bucky took the plate of cookies away before Tony could grab one and set it on the island in the kitchen before returning to the coffee table. He rubbed his hands together. “Now,” he said, picking up the towel, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“What are you doing?” Tony growled. “Why are you _grooming_ me?”

Bucky set the towel down over top of Tony’s lap. He took Tony by the chin and picked up the beard trimmer, turning it on. “You need to look good,” he said, ominously, as he tilted Tony’s head back and started trimming Tony’s poor, bedraggled, beard.

Tony stared morbidly up at the ceiling. He hoped his beard would survive intact. “Did Pepper put you up to this?” he asked.

“No,” Bucky said, turning Tony’s face to the side so he could get at row of straggly hairs. “No one put me up to this,”

“So why are you trimming my – _hey_!” Tony’s face flushed. “Leave my nose hairs alone!”

“He’s _short_ ,” Bucky grumbled, ignoring Tony’s complaint. “He’ll see them,”

“Steve doesn’t care about my _nose hairs_ ,” Tony insisted, trying to squirm his way to freedom.

Bucky clamped his hand down on Tony’s shoulder, pinning him in place. “Look,” he said, turning Tony’s face again so he could start working on a new patch of beard. “Just sit still.”

“I haven’t bathed in _two days_ ,” Tony growled. “What makes you think my _nose hair_ is going to be what offends him?”

Bucky groaned. “Seriously? _Two days_?”

“To be fair,” Tony said, trying to shrink into the pillows when he found himself the sole recipient of Bucky’s glare, “I was unconscious for half of that time. It’s not like I had the opportunity to shower,”

Bucky grabbed Tony by the arm and lifted it up. He sniffed at Tony.

“Really? You’re _pit-checking_ me now?” Tony squeaked.

“You’re supposed to be some kind of super suave man-whore,” Bucky said, lifting up Tony’s other arm so he could sniff at it too.

“Hey!” Tony bristled. “I do _not_ smell bad,”

“You’re damn lucky you don’t,” Bucky growled. “Because I don’t have time to give you a bath,”

Tony stared agape at Bucky. “You _wouldn’t_ ,”

“If you had smelled like a gym locker, I would have,” Bucky said, setting the beard trimmer aside. He picked up the brush and started tackling Tony’s hair, huffing a sigh when the tangles refused to move the way he wanted them to move. He gave Tony’s head a sniff – not even bothering to try and mask it – and then went back to brushing Tony’s hair.

“Why do you keep _sniffing_ me?” Tony asked, narrowing his eyes. “Do you have some kind of sniffing fetish?”

“I told you – if you stink, I’m going to have to bathe you,” Bucky said, sternly. “He has asthma, remember?”

Tony’s gut twisted. “Oh,” he mumbled. He had forgotten all about that.

Bucky’s expression softened. “Don’t worry,” he said, dumping the brush into the towel with the beard trimmer. “It’s not like I was going to let you stink the place up,”

“That’s reassuring,” Tony snorted. He gave his shirt a sniff and wrinkled his nose. “I should probably change into something that doesn’t smell like antiseptic,”

“Probably,” Bucky grunted. He gathered up the towel, stood and dumped everything onto the coffee table, ignoring the way it rolled off the side and dropped onto the floor. “Alright – time’s a’ wastin’.” He took the wheelchair by the handles and pushed it into Tony’s bedroom.

“You’re going to dress me now too?” Tony asked.

“Someone has to,” Bucky grunted. He wheeled Tony over to the closet and yanked it open, disappearing inside.

Tony reached to lift up the blanket on his lap.

“Don’t touch the fucking blanket, Stark,” Bucky snapped.

Tony grimaced and dropped his hand back into his lap. “You’re cruel,”

“You’re cruel. Why do you have so many shirts? Jesus, it’s like a fucking Macy’s in here,” Bucky said, emerging from the closet. He held up his first choice – a red silk shirt Tony couldn’t even remember buying – and disappeared back into the closet with a grumble, taking the shirt with him.

“Just so you know,” Tony called out, idly playing with the edge of the blanket, “The second closet has all my pants. The third one is for my shoes and underwear,”

Something inside the closet banged loudly; Tony was pretty sure it was the sound of Bucky’s head slamming into something. A few seconds later, with a red line on his forehead, Bucky re-emerged from the closet clutching a t-shirt. He threw it at Tony and closed the closet door, turning to the second closet with a look of utter loathing on his face.

Tony lifted the shirt up and inspected it. “Really? Cookie Monster? That’s your choice? Out of all the shirts in there, that’s the one you picked?”

“The googly eyes will set the mood,” Bucky growled from inside the closet.

“Right,” Tony sighed. Why was he letting Bucky dress him again? This was a very, very bad idea. Oh well. It was too late to protest – unless, of course, he wanted to see Steve while naked and in a wheelchair. Somehow he didn’t think _that_ would be a good idea. He pulled his shirt up over his head and gave himself a sniff just to make sure he didn’t, in fact, actually smell like he had rolled around in garbage. Satisfied, he pulled the Cookie Monster shirt on. He glared resentfully down at his pants, knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to manage them without a fight. “Stupid pants,” he muttered under his breath.

“Did you say something?” Bucky stepped out of the closet with a pair of loose, black sweat pants.

“Nope,” Tony said. He reached out to take them but Bucky didn’t move any closer; instead, he threw open the third closet door and disappeared again.

“You’re in my underwear closet,” Tony grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “What could you _possibly_ need from there?”

“When was the last time you changed your drawers, Stark?” Bucky drawled.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Ok – point taken. Bring me underwear,”

“That’s what I thought,” Bucky said. His face was faintly pink when he stepped out of the closet; he coughed into his hand and tossed Tony a pair of blue briefs. Tony nearly choked on his own tongue. Natasha had given these to him as a joke. They weren’t just regular briefs, either – they were better classified as _lingerie_ ; they had Captain America’s face stitched onto the crotch and were edged with frilly red-white-and-blue lace. He had only ever worn them once, and that was because he had been trying to embarrass Natasha. The plan had backfired in the end, but the look on Rhodey’s face when he had accidentally walked in Tony attempting to moon her had been priceless.

Tony picked up the silky briefs. “These ones? Really?”

“I’m here to get Steve laid,” Bucky said with a shrug. “You should get changed. He’s going to be back in a few minutes.” He wandered out of the room, leaving Tony to struggle into the new clothing.

 

 

Tony wheeled himself into the living room; he was huffing and puffing by the time he got to the couch, but there was no one around to yell at. His shouts had been met with sullen silence, and even Jarvis had been strangely quiet.

The penthouse was empty; Bucky was long gone.

Tony sighed and rolled his way towards the plate of cookies. At least Bucky hadn’t left him behind to suffer alone. He grabbed a cookie and stuffed it into his mouth.

The penthouse elevator opened with a ding. Steve stepped out, carrying a plastic bag filled with take-out; the bag hung low to the floor, and the plastic was torn in places where the take-out containers had poked through. He stopped dead in his tracks and smiled at Tony, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I see the cookie monster is busy eating cookies,”

Tony scowled and pulled the cookie further into his mouth with his teeth. “I’m an _adult_ ,” he grumbled.

“I believe you,” Steve chuckled. He carried the food into the kitchen and set it down on the island, looking around. “Am I the first one to get here?”

The first one? Tony frowned around his cookie. He hadn’t exactly been expecting guests – aside from Steve, of course.

“The other Avengers have asked me to pass on their apologies,” Jarvis said. “They were unable to attend, as they all had previous engagements,”

“Really,” Steve said, dryly. “That’s funny, because I _distinctly_ remember talking with Natasha about today’s team dinner while I was in the elevator a few minutes ago and she said she was coming,”

“She is no longer in the building, Captain,” Jarvis said.

Tony chuckled and reached for another cookie. “I guess we both got played, huh?”

Steve sighed and headed over to the cupboard to retrieve two plates. “Who got you?”

“Bucky,” Tony grumbled. “He wheeled me up here and left me in my room,”

Steve chuckled. “I hope you didn’t hurt yourself getting back out here,”

“It wasn’t that bad. Besides, he left cookies,” Tony said, wheeling himself towards the kitchen. “I suppose I’ll have to forgive him.”

Steve sighed and closed the cupboard. He leaned against the counter, frowning down at the plates he had set out. “Tony?” he said, softly. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Tony said, steering himself towards the island. He waited there, knowing better than to try and stand up to get at the take-out. He was going to have to beg Steve to load a plate of food up for him and then wheel it over to the coffee table, but he was more than willing to beg at this point. The smell alone was making it hard to sit still.

“Do you think they’re mad at me?” Steve asked.

“Who?” Tony asked, baffled. Who would be mad at _Steve_?

Steve turned, still leaning against the counter and wrapped an arm around his middle. “This was supposed to be a team dinner – we missed out on that when you were away and now everyone has something better to do,”

Tony sighed. “Steve,” he said, “I’m pretty sure we’re being set up,”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Tony said, wheeling himself over to Steve, “I think Bucky arranged for us to have some alone time,”

Steve looked startled. “What? But _why_?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said, backing the wheelchair up. Maybe moving closer _hadn’t_ been such a good idea after all. He swallowed hard. If Steve didn’t know why two people would be set up to have alone time, then there was a good chance he was misreading things. Oh god – maybe _he_ was the one misreading things! He chuckled weakly, trying to bury his panic deep inside. “Maybe it amuses him?”

“Tony,” Steve murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not funny,”

“Did you _not_ want to spend time alone with me?” Tony asked, still wheeling backwards. He hid the hurt behind a stiff smile. “Because I can go – we can have the whole group dinner thing another time when everyone’s around. It’s not a big deal,”

“NO! No – I want to have alone time with you – I mean,” Steve stuttered. He turned back to the plates, snatching them up. “We should eat,”

“Are you sure?” Tony asked. “Because – _really_ – I can go,”

“I don’t want you to go,” Steve said, quickly. He darted towards the island and set the plates down. “I’m fine. This is good – yes. It’s good. It’s fine.”

“Alright,” Tony said. He let out a nervous laugh and wheeled a little closer to the island so he could peer up at the take-out Steve had brought with him. There were ten different cartons sitting up there, and some of them looked absolutely massive compared to the plates. It was a miracle Steve had managed to get them to the counter.

“So, what are we having?” Tony asked, clearing his throat.

Steve straightened up almost immediately, seemingly delighted by the question. “Natasha took me to the Taiwanese restaurant she pointed out last week. She said you guys have all been there, so I figured it would be a good place to grab food from. We ordered a bunch of stuff off the menu,” he said. He cracked open cartons and grabbed for a serving spoon; he started scooping food on their plates. “I guess we get to eat it all by ourselves,” he mused. “They can have the leftovers – if there are any,”

“Sounds good to me. It’s from the Pearl House, right?” Tony asked. There were plenty of Taiwanese places around the tower, but the Pearl House was the best of the best.

“That’s the one,” Steve said, flashing Tony a smile. “The people there seem really swell.”

“They’re pretty awesome,” Tony agreed. He gave the air a tentative sniff; his mouth started watering. “Are those fish balls I’m smelling?”

Steve nodded. “Natasha said they’re good. I didn’t know they made fish like that,”

“Natasha’s right – although the whole ‘tasting good part depends on where you get them from. I’ve had some pretty bad ones,” Tony chuckled. “But if they’re from the Pearl House, I’m sure they’re fine. Did you get them to use the extra spicy curry?”

“Yep,” Steve said, dumping a spoonful of fish balls onto Tony’s plate. “I got the seafood noodles you like, too,”

“Oh yeah?” Tony lifted himself up in the wheelchair so he could peek at the plates. He loved those damn noodles. They were greasy as hell, but so, _so_ good. He hadn’t had them in _ages_ ; Pepper had forbidden him from eating them, because she had been afraid he would give himself a heart attack from all the salt.

“I guess you have this kind of stuff all the time, huh?” Steve asked, scooping some marinated tofu out onto their plates. He picked up a green onion pancake with his tongs and gave it a cursory sniff before setting it down on their plates. With his other hand he opened up a container of shrimp dim-sum; he used the tongs to spread them evenly between their plates.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I’m there all the time,” Tony chuckled. He squinted and then grinned widely. “You got the vegetarian stewed chicken? I _love_ the vegetarian stewed chicken,”

Steve smiled shyly. “Natasha suggested it. She said she’s caught you eating it enough times to know you’re in love with it,” he said. “She warned me that you might grab the container and hoard it,”

“Oh _please_ ,” Tony said. “She’s one to talk. She’s the one who introduced me to it. I’ve caught her eating it in the elevator with her fingers.”

Steve smiled. “Oh yeah? It must be good then.”

“It’s good alright. And she would know. She’s been damn near everywhere, and she says it’s the closest to real Taiwanese food she’s ever had here,”

“You’ve never been?”

“I’ve been to Taiwan yeah, but only for business. I didn’t exactly have the time to stalk through the night markets and noodle places so I guess we’re going to have to take her word for it,” Tony said.

“You didn’t get to wander?” Steve asked. “I thought billionaires get to do whatever they want,”

“Sadly, no. Most of the time I spent there, I was chained to a desk – figuratively, of course,” Tony sighed. “I had to get my assistant to smuggle me in milk tea last time,”

“Is it that hard to get?” Steve asked, cracking a smile.

“It’s pretty easy to get actually – the problem is that I had a thousand different people breathing down my neck about deadlines and no time to go hunt it down,” Tony grumbled. “I didn’t even get to eat any fish waffles while I was there,”

“Fish waffles?” Steve asked, looking confused. “They make fish into waffles?”

Tony chuckled, amused by the look on Steve’s face. “Relax – they’re waffles shaped like fish – not actually _made_ out of fish. Although that doesn’t sound bad now that I think about it,” he said, smacking his lips. “”Mmm… fish waffles.”

“Waffles shaped like fish,” Steve mused, scooping out another set of fish balls. “I wonder who thought up _that_ idea,”

“I don’t know, but whoever it was, was a _genius_. Sometimes they fill them with chocolate pudding or custard,” Tony said, dreamily. “They stuff them with red beans, too. Has anyone fed you red bean paste yet?”

“I’ve had that,” Steve said. “Thor brought me a bun once when he and Jane went shopping. It was good,”

“They’re awesome when they’re fresh,” Tony said with a grin. He reached up for his plate, wiggling his fingers at Steve. “Ok, I think we’re good – plate me before my stomach tries to eat me alive,”

Steve chuckled and handed Tony a plate. “Do you want me to push you over to the couch? Or do you want to eat somewhere else?” He eyed the kitchen table, pursing his lips in displeasure. “It’s probably easier to pull the coffee table closer than it is to move the table.”

“The couch sounds like as good a place as any,” Tony agreed. “But I wouldn’t mind being ferried over to it.” He batted his eyelashes at Steve and settled his plate and fork in his lap, keeping it steady so it wouldn’t slip and slide as they moved. “May I have a ride, Captain?”

Steve snorted loudly; he rolled his eyes at Tony. “I suppose I can give you a lift, soldier.” He pushed Tony towards the couch and then swiped the plate from his lap, settling it and the fork on the coffee table. “Alright,” he said, his hands on his hips. “Let’s do this.” He pulled the blankets off of Tony’s lap and helped him up; together, they hobbled to the couch, swaying as they moved. Their balance didn’t last long. Tony tangled his foot in his pant leg, taking Steve with him in an inelegant dive onto the couch.

Snickering, Tony sat up slowly, setting the pillow he pulled out from under him in his lap. “Well,” he wheezed, “That went better than expected. At least I didn’t end up flat on my ass,”

Steve dusted his hands off on his pants and stood up. “That’s very true. I was expecting to end up on my head. You have awful balance, pal,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony chuckled. “You Captains are all alike – dropping the injured on the floor without even a hint of embarrassment.”

“Ha, ha. Here, hand me that,” Steve said. He took the pillow and lifted up Tony’s leg, settling it on the floor so the cast would have something softer to sit on. He glanced at the cast, his brow furrowed; his cheeks went bright pink. “Tony?” he squeaked, his voice cracking.

“What?” Tony asked, squirming on the couch cushions, trying to get comfortable. He glanced down at his leg cast and froze. Oh _shit_. He hadn’t actually looked at what Bucky had done to the cast, even when he had been pulling on his pants. Suddenly that seemed like a bad decision.

“Why do you have a giant heart with the words ‘ _property of Steve Rogers’_ drawn on your cast?” Steve croaked.

Tony shrugged, trying to be casual about it; a plump bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. “Uh – I don’t know. It’s fashionable? All the kids are doing it these days?”

“There’s another heart here too – it has SR + TS in the middle of it,” Steve said, turning Tony’s leg to get a better look at it. “Oh.” He chuckled and smiled up at Tony. “This was Bucky’s doing, wasn’t it?”

“How could you tell?” Tony asked.

“Well,” Steve said, setting Tony’s cast-clad leg back onto the pillow. “There’s a heart drawn on the back between the two other ones and it kind of look like it’s a penis. Sadly, I’ve seen it before. Bucky used to draw those on every single notebook he borrowed from me. I think my teachers though I had serious problems,”

“Classy,” Tony said.

“Well,” Steve said, retrieving his plate from the kitchen counter, “I guess it could have been worse. After that I always knew how _not_ to draw them.” He sat down on the couch beside Tony and chuckled, turning his attention to his plate. “This all looks really good,” he said, clearing his throat. His cheeks were back to their normal shade of pale peach, but the tips of his ears were now faintly pink; he didn’t seem to be able to look anywhere near Tony.

Tony picked up his own fork and plate. He started eating, trying to focus on the food instead of on the way Steve looked like he was going to burst into flames. It wasn’t bad food; Natasha had picked out all of the good stuff. The company was good, too. Maybe Bucky _wasn’t_ going to get a kick to the shin after all – well no. He was still going to kick Bucky in the shin, but that would be for drawing penises on his cast. _That_ was unforgiveable – punishable by shin kicking at the very _least_. Clint would get the same if he tried anything.

Tony looked over at Steve, trying to figure out what to say with noodles half-hanging out of his mouth. Should he just say it? Should he just blurt out that he liked Steve and really, really, wanted to take him somewhere nice for dinner when he wasn’t two days out of medical?

Steve shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth and started chewing noisily.

Was Steve _rushing_? It kind of _looked_ like he was rushing.

Tony swallowed down his mouthful. Steve was probably just hungry – that had to be it. Steve was just hungry – he wasn’t rushing. It wasn’t like Steve was trying to get away from him.

Oh god.

Was Steve trying to get away from him?

“Tony?” Steve asked, setting his fork down. His plate was already cleared off. Had he even tasted anything?

Tony froze with a piece of shrimp dim-sum held on his tongue.

“Don’t you need to take your pain pills?” Steve asked, standing up.

Tony nodded slowly. He watched Steve move in silence with the dim-sum clenched in his teeth.

Steve set his plate down on the island. He slid over to the cupboard beside the fridge and pulled out a pill bottle, opening it up. He took out a glass and filled it with water before bringing it and the pills over to Tony.

Tony bit the dim-sum in half and swallowed painfully. He took the pills from Steve’s hand and set his fork and plate down in his lap so he could take the glass. “Thanks,” he coughed. His eyes watered bitterly.

“Do you want me to put that on the coffee table?” Steve asked when Tony was done, gesturing to the water.

“Uh, sure,” Tony rasped.

Steve took the glass; their fingers brushed. Steve cleared his throat and pulled away. “So uh, I think I’m going to go grab my sketchbook.” He set the glass on the coffee table and fled, practically running for the elevator.

Tony sighed and looked down into his plate as the elevator doors snapped shut.

“Jarvis?” Tony murmured.

“Yes, sir?”

“Did Steve just leave the building?”

“Captain Rogers appears to be headed to his private floor,” Jarvis said. “Should I inform you if he does indeed choose to leave the building?”

“No,” Tony said, picking up his fork. “Don’t worry about it.” He started eating again, trying to savor the meal despite the bitter taste in the back of his throat. When he was finished, he leaned forwards and set the plate on the edge of the coffee table, shoving it with his toe to make sure it didn’t end up on the carpet. He leaned back into the couch, wrapping his arms around his middle and closed his eyes feeling sleepy, unhappy and full.

 

Tony blinked slowly; he had fallen asleep and for a split second, he was sure he was still dreaming. He wasn’t alone on the couch anymore. Steve was sitting right there beside him, surrounded in rainbow coloured sharpies. His sketchbook was open on the coffee table in front of them, and a pencil was lying on top of it beside a sketch of something that Tony couldn’t quite make out.

Steve smiled softly at Tony. “You fell asleep,” he said. He had Tony’s arm cast in his lap and was colouring in the buildings he had drawn earlier in the day.

“I didn’t think you were going to come back,” Tony mumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes with his other hand.

Steve’s smile dimmed. “You thought I was going to just leave you up here all alone?”

“Hey,” Tony said, with a lethargic shrug. “It’s happened before. People find me boring when I’m drugged up and barely mobile.”

Steve scowled and capped the sharpie in his hand, setting it down. He picked up another and started colouring in a new building, adding brilliant green to what had once been a field of black and white. The armors were still practically glowing, floating high up above the city, but somehow they didn’t seem as interesting as the rest of the world Steve was making for him.

“You’re not boring,” Steve said, his eyes still on the cast and his work. “You drool a bit, and you snore, but you’re not boring,”

“Good to know,” Tony mumbled. He tried not to move too much, not wanting to ruin the drawings. “Did you get tired of waiting for me to wake up?”

“No. I’ve still got to save you from Clint’s penises, remember?” Steve said with a chuckle. “Don’t say I never did anything nice for you,”

“Ha ha,” Tony snickered. He let his eyelids droop shut. He couldn’t feel Steve’s sharpie through the cast, but he took a moment to imagine that he could. He wondered what that would be like to have Steve’s fingers on his skin. Steve’s hands were _soft_ looking; the callouses he had earned from all those hours spent in the gym and battle were gone, replaced by skin that had only ever tangled with art supplies.

Steve looked up from the cast. “Are you alright?” he asked. “You’ve got this funny look on your face,”

“I was just wondering what you feel like,” Tony said, trying to shrug again. He frowned when he realized what he had said. Clearly, the painkillers were doing their thing and his brain was not. “That may be the drugs talking,” he mumbled.

Steve smiled slyly at Tony. “You want to touch me?”

“Is that bad?” Tony asked. The world around him was faintly fuzzy around the edges, but it wasn’t frightening. The slip up didn’t seem to have cost him anything, and he was grateful for that.

“No,” Steve murmured. “It’s not bad. I guess it’s just unexpected, that’s all.” He capped his sharpie. His hand hovered over the pile spread out on the cushion beside him; he pulled his hand away without picking anything up. “So, uh. Bucky and I _talked_ ,”

“Oh?” Tony wasn’t really surprised. He had been waiting to hear about that particular conversation for a while now.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Steve sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“Was it a bad talk?” Tony asked.

“No,” Steve said. “No, it wasn’t bad.” He fixed his gaze on Tony’s cast, scowling at them as though the mere sight of them insulted him. He gave his head a shake and then schooled his expression. “Bucky said that you two were never dating. He told me I was nuts to have even _thought_ that he would want to get in your pants.” Steve snorted. “I didn’t believe him at first.”

“Do you believe him now?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “I just want him to be happy, you know? He deserves it after everything we’ve been through. He was never happy – even when we were kids, and he was screwing around after class, he was never really _happy_. He spent all his damn time looking out for me because I always – _always_ – got into trouble.” Steve let out a huffed laugh. “He paid for a year of Art College – did you know that? He snuck into the office and handed in the money before I could show up to pay the bill. He got them to tell me I’d won a _grant_ ,”

Tony smiled, softly, nodding along. It was getting harder and harder to focus on anything other than Steve’s voice, but that was alright; hearing it made him feel a little like he was wrapped up in Steve’s arms.

“I figured it out of course,” Steve said. “It wasn’t exactly hard considering we lived together and all of a sudden he seemed strapped for cash even though I _knew_ he had been hoarding his paychecks.” He picked up a purple sharpie and spun it around in between his fingers.

“So you thought he liked _me_?” Tony asked.

“Every time I saw the two of you together he got this look on his face,” Steve mumbled. “He doesn’t look at anyone like that – not since his last girlfriend. So I decided I needed to back off and let you two have some alone time, no matter what I felt,”

Tony opened his mouth to speak but stopped when Steve looked up and locked eyes with him.

“Look,” Steve said, clearing his throat. “I don’t want to assume anything here, even if Bucky did give me his side of the story. I know that he told me that you two weren’t dating – _aren’t_ dating – but I need to hear it from you too.”

“We’re not dating,” Tony said, slowly. “We never have and we never will be dating. I’m not interested in him like that,”

“You’re not?”

“I’m not – I’m really, _really_ not. He’s not the guy I want in my life,” Tony said. He reached out and tried to put his hand over top of Steve’s. He winced when the sharpie clipped his fingers. He was pretty sure he should have noticed it moving, but for some reason it had almost looked stationary. He frowned, trying to blink away the lethargy that had claimed him.

Steve dropped the sharpie. “Sorry,”

“It’s fine,” Tony mumbled. “S’ my fault.”

“Tony,” Steve sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s just a sharpie – it’s not like you punched me in the face,” Tony snorted, his eyelids drooping again.

Steve’s voice turned sorrowful. “I’m sorry that I didn’t just come out and ask what was going on between you two. I thought that I understood what was going on and I was wrong.”

“It’s alright,” Tony said, soothingly. He stroked the top of Steve’s hand with his thumb. Steve’s skin was warm and smooth beneath his fingers; he filed the fact away, treasuring it. “You’re here now and we’re talking.”

“I know,” Steve murmured. “I just wish I hadn’t fucked this up so badly,”

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Tony said. He squeezed Steve’s hand and forced himself to open his eyes again. “Just promise me one thing, alright?”

“Alright,” Steve said, nodding rigidly. “Anything,”

“Answer the fucking phone when I call you, alright?” Tony said. He smiled at Steve. “It freaked me out when you didn’t answer,”

Steve flushed and then smiled back. “I think I can do that. I really did meant to call you back, you know.” He flipped his hand over slowly, tangling his fingers with Tony’s. “Tony?”

“Yep?” Tony said, letting his eyelids droop shut again.

Steve shifted closer, lifting himself up. He kissed Tony gently on the lips. “Was that ok?” he asked as he pulled back.

Tony smiled and fell asleep.

 

 

Tony hated waking up after taking painkillers; it was always a slow process, and no matter how many times it happened, he could never get used to it. There was a thick blanket lying on top of him, and it was too heavy and warm. He rolled over with a loud groan and found that he was lying on the couch in the living room. Startled by the sudden sight of the coffee table, he nearly rolled off of the couch. He could still feel Steve’s lips pressed against his and he hoped to hell that it hadn’t been a dream.

“Jarvis?” Tony slurred, peeling the blanket off of his chest, “Where’s Steve?”

“Captain Rogers is not in the building,” Jarvis said.

Tony groaned and let the blanket drop onto his lap. “He’s gone?”

“He was escorted by Agent Coulson and Agent Barton to SHIELD HQ to undergo further testing. Agent Coulson has informed me that the doctors expect him to remain in their care for a minimum of twelve hours,” Jarvis said.

“So he’s _not_ mad at me?” Tony asked, nervously. He had a hard time believing that Steve would be happy about him nodding off on him in the middle of a kiss. Hell, he was pretty sure he was never going to forgive _himself_ for it either.

“I do not believe he is angry with you, sir,” Jarvis said, “I believe he was a little put out that you fell asleep, but I believe he understood the reasons for it. He spent the rest of the night drawing on your casts – I don’t believe he would have done that if he was angry,”

Tony tugged the blanket up and off of his lap. “Really?” He tossed the blanket onto the couch beside him and let out a low whistle. Steve had been busy alright; every square _inch_ of white cast was covered in artwork. The images were meticulously outlined – aside from Bucky’s earlier doodles – and the line art was crisp and clean. Every line there for a reason, and no space was wasted. Colour flowed freely, and while there seemed to be a veritable rainbow on his leg and arm, everything seemed to mesh together; nothing looked out of place. Sure, there were a bunch of robots fighting pirates on the front of his leg cast, but it didn’t look _odd_. It was _mesmerizing_. He was pretty sure he could stare at Steve’s work for the rest of the day and he wouldn’t get tired of it. He turned his leg and saw to his immense glee that Steve had even gone out of his way to sketch a tiny Dummy into the collage of images on the back; it neatly covered up the penis shaped heart.

“Sir? I hate to interrupt your _you time_ , but Captain Rogers has requested the files for the Beach House incident,” Jarvis said.

Tony looked up so sharply, his head hurt. He rubbed at his forehead. “He wants _what_ exactly?”

“He would like the security footage and reports from the team’s time in the Beach House,” Jarvis said. “I believe he wants something to do, as he is waiting for the results of the first round of blood tests.”

“Give him whatever he wants,” Tony said, yawning into his arm. “Tell him to call me later when he needs to talk,”

“Yes, sir.” Jarvis hesitated. “If I may, are you entirely sure you wish to give the Captain all of the security footage? That footage includes the incident on the beach.”

Tony flinched at the mere mention of the beach. “On second thought,” he said. “Maybe that’s _not_ such a good idea.” He sighed and looked down at his casts. Should he give Steve the video or not? He didn’t really want Steve to see him like that – it was embarrassing enough to know that the rest of the team had seen him screaming and crying. But this was Steve he was talking about – Steve wouldn’t think any less of him. Would he? No. Steve would be alright with it – he was sure of it. Tony let out a low groan. He would have gone through that night on the beach a thousand times over if it meant keeping the kid safe from harm. He wasn’t ashamed of that, so why did it feel like he should be? He sighed. “You know what? No. Fuck it. Don’t hide anything. Let him have everything we’ve got. He wants to know what happened and he deserves to see it without me meddling with the files so I look better. I don’t want to hide anything from him,”

Jarvis was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was softer, although no less firm. “Captain Rogers sends his thanks. He has also requested that you take it easy today and has threatened to bring back a vegetable platter if you don’t behave yourself. He has also threatened to remove all of the dip from both the tray and the tower if he does have to return with the platter,”

Tony mock gasped and smiled. “That bastard!”

“Would you like me to relay that sentiment?” Jarvis asked, dryly.

“Feel free – but maybe don’t use the word _bastard_. He actually likes his mother,” Tony said. He tapped his chin, thinking carefully. “What’s a better word? Jerk? Asshole? Hm, maybe let’s go with monster – that has a nice ring to it. Anyone who threatens to take dip from a vegetable tray is a monster.”

Speaking of food – he hadn’t eaten in a while and now was as good a time as any. Tony stood up and looked around for the wheelchair; it was parked beside the couch where he had left it the night before, ready and waiting to be used. He shuffled closer, remembering to use his good arm to guide him along the arm of the couch. He sat down, pleased to find that the breaks were still engaged and sighed in relief, glad to be free of the extra weight on his leg. “Oh that’s _nice_ ,”

“Your message has been sent,” Jarvis said. “Captain Rogers has asked me to thank you and to tell you that there is a plate of leftovers waiting for you in the fridge,”

“He left me breakfast?” Tony unlocked the breaks and rolled the wheelchair into the kitchen. He grinned when he saw the yellow post-it waiting for him there on the fridge door. He would have seen it eventually, but it was nice to know Steve had left him a note. The words were neatly printed. Steve had even signed it with ‘sincerely Steve Rogers’.

“He did indeed leave you breakfast, sir,” Jarvis said. “You plate is located on the lowest shelf.”

Tony maneuvered himself closer and hooked his good arm through the pull-bar. He got the fridge open with a grunt and swung the door out his way so he could wheel up close to the shelving. There, resting right up against the ledge on the lowest shelf – right where Jarvis had said it would be – was a plate filled with _all_ the good stuff; it was wrapped in saran wrap and to Tony, it looked like the Holy Grail. He scooped it up and rolled backwards out of the way, pushing the fridge door closed with his elbow. He dragged the wheelchair over to the microwave, grinning from ear to ear. Now came the tricky part. He needed to get the plate up and onto the counter without dropping it. He could do this. He had one good leg and one good arm – that’s all he needed. He was an engineer – he would know. He hoisted the plate up and stood; his good leg wobbled from the sudden change in weight, and held – but only for ten seconds. Clutching the plate to his chest, he sank back down, intending to recover in the wheelchair. Unfortunately, in his rush to get the plate on the counter, he had forgotten to put the brakes on. The wheelchair glided backwards towards the island where it promptly crashed. Tony plopped down onto the floor on his ass with a groan. His cast hit the floor with a crack. “Fuck!” He steadied the plate before it could slip out of his grasp, digging his fingers into the saran wrap.

“Do you require assistance, sir?” Jarvis asked, sounding concerned. “Should I call someone upstairs?”

Tony sighed wearily and glanced down at the plate of food. Normally he would have just suffered through the indignity, and forced himself to figure things out on his own but his stomach was growling and judging by the dull throb in his arm and leg, his pain meds were on their way out the door. He shifted his leg, delicately turning it. If the cast was broken, he was pretty sure he was going to _cry_. He was in luck – this time. The cast remained intact and undamaged. “Oh thank god,” he murmured. “Alright, I give up. Who’s in the tower right now?”

“Mr. Barnes is the only one available, sir,” Jarvis said.

“Bucky’s the only one here?” Tony groaned. “Great. Fantastic,”

“Should I call one of your emergency contacts instead, sir?” Jarvis asked.

“No, no,” Tony muttered. “Just get Barnes up here before my ass falls asleep.”

 

The elevator dinged; the doors opened. Bucky stepped out, looking around cautiously as though he was expecting to walk in on something strange. He spotted Tony on the floor and let out a loud snort. “Your electronic butler told me you fell down,” he said, smirking down at Tony. “I take it you can’t get up?”

Tony glowered up at Bucky.

“Fine, fine,” Bucky said, still chuckling under his breath. He stooped down and picked up the plate, setting it on the counter beside the microwave. He grabbed the wheelchair and dragged it closer, locking the brakes. “So,” he said, helping Tony up. “How was dinner?”

“It was fine,” Tony grunted, making himself comfortable in the wheelchair. He didn’t really want to talk to Bucky about his night with Steve, but he supposed he could manage some small talk considering the guy had just peeled him off of the floor. “ _Apparently_ everyone mysteriously cancelled on Steve and he didn’t find out about it until he had already bought a crap-ton of food. There’s a bunch of leftovers in the fridge.”

Bucky grinned. He peeled the saran wrap off of the plate and stuck it in the microwave, turning it on. He balled the saran wrap up and tossed it from hand to hand. “So I guess that means your evening went better than expected. Is that why you fell on your ass? Are you having trouble _walking_? Are you sore somewhere the sun doesn’t shine?”

Tony scowled. “Fuck off,”

“Hey, it’s a legitimate problem – or so I’ve heard,” Bucky said, over his shoulder.

“ _Nothing_ happened!” Tony snapped.

“Sure,” Bucky snorted. “I thought you said there was _kissing_ ,”

“I did not say that,” Tony grumbled. “But yes – there was a kiss, but that was it.”

“So you made out,” Bucky said, smirking.

“We did _not_ make out. I mean it would have been nice if we had, but we didn’t,” Tony sighed. “It was going great, up until he kissed me and I fell asleep on him,”

Bucky winced. “You fell asleep on him? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I _know_ ,” Tony grumbled, putting his face in his hands. “He told Jarvis that he’s not mad,”

“Ah,” Bucky said, nodding knowingly. “So you think he’s still ticked off,”

“I don’t have any proof of it, but yes – it’s a possibility,” Tony gritted out. “I guess I can phone him after breakfast and beg for forgiveness,”

“He’s in the lowest levels of SHIELD HQ,” Bucky said, “You won’t be able to phone him.”

“I don’t need a phone to call him, you know. He has his tablet,” Tony said, dryly. “I could talk to him through that,”

“You can _try_ ,” Bucky said with a shrug. “But I doubt it’s going to go through,”

“Oh?” Tony growled. “And why is that, pray tell?”

“I asked your robot butler to do it for me earlier so I could find out how your date went,” Bucky said, grinning again. “Couldn’t get through.”

“Great,” Tony grumbled, hanging his head. He had been hoping to call Steve and talk things out, but apparently that was off the table. He would just have to wait until Steve came home and hope for the best.

“What’s the problem?” Bucky asked, frowning. “I thought you thought things were fine,”

“They _are_ fine,” Tony muttered, looking up at the microwave timer. “They were – are – up until he gets a look at the files I sent him,”

“You sent him the Beach House files,” Bucky said, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah,” Tony said, smiling crookedly. “I did.”

“So I guess I’m screwed, huh?” Bucky grunted. He pulled open the fridge and rummaged around until he found the rest of the leftovers that hadn’t been neatly set out on a plate. He hip checked the door to shut it and then sauntered over to the counter beside the microwave with the plastic containers stacked up against his chest.

“You’re not screwed,” Tony said. He looked mournfully at the microwave. He should really have given it an upgrade. The current cook time was ridiculous. When the timer ran out, he waited impatiently for Bucky to pull the plate out for him. He nearly growled aloud when Bucky started whistling; he rolled his wheelchair closer so he could jab Bucky in the small of the back. “Hurry it up, will you? I’m _hungry_ ,”

“That’s nice,” Bucky grunted, moving out of the way of Tony’s range. “You’ll get your food when you get it,”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest.

Bucky sighed and pulled the plate out of the microwave. He set it gently down on Tony’s lap and grinned when Tony yelped in pain. “I told you to wait, but no, _you_ wanted the plate now, now, now,” he said, hoisting the plate back up.

Tony rubbed at his nearly burned thighs. “ _Asshole_ ,”

“You started it,” Bucky chuckled. He set Tony’s plate down on the counter and got himself a clean one from the cupboard; it took him mere seconds to dump the leftovers out, and by the time he was done, the containers were practically empty and his plate looked like it was trying to hold up a mountain of food.

“Maybe we should save some for Steve,” Tony said with a scowl.

Bucky snorted. “He’s going to be gone for hours – believe me. He’ll be fine with it,”

“That’s not the point,” Tony snapped.

Bucky turned slowly. “Stark,” he said, his hand settling on his hips. “I can order him more take-out – fresh take-out. Stop being a baby,”

“I’m not being a baby! I’m being considerate!”

“You’re being whiny!”

“I am not!”

“Look,” Bucky said, shoving his piled-high plate into the microwave. He hit a button and set the timer for two minutes before stepping back and leaning over top of Tony. His hair fell forwards in a veil around his face, and for a moment, he looked absolutely _terrifying_. “Steve will be fine,”

“You don’t know that,” Tony muttered, leaning back to try and get away from Bucky.

Bucky leaned forwards and wrapped an arms around Tony’s middle, resting his jaw on Tony’s shoulder; Tony scowled and patted Bucky’s back with his good arm, not wanting to clunk his cast any more than necessary.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, his voice going soft.

“For what?” Tony asked, confused. “Why does everyone keep apologizing to me?”

“I’m sorry for the Beach House,” Bucky said. “And for getting in the way,”

“You didn’t get in the way,” Tony grumbled.

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky said, pulling free. He wiped at his eyes and for a split second Tony thought he saw tears. “I did get in the way, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, alright? Friends don’t screw over friends.”

“Alright,” Tony said, slowly. “What are we talking about here?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Bucky straightened up and plucked Tony’s plate off the counter. He set it gently in Tony’s lap when he was satisfied with the temperature and fished a pair of forks out of the drying rack; he clutched in his cybernetic hand. “It’s fine. Let’s eat.”

“Alright,” Tony said, cautiously squinting up at Bucky. “Are you _sure_ you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky muttered. He pulled his plate out of the microwave when the timer went off, and dumped it onto the table to let it cool. Something metal squealed. He grimaced and opened his hand, glaring at the bent forks. “Fuck!”

“I can fix that,” Tony said, eyeing the cybernetic arm. He had been meaning to get the damn arm upgraded; the bugs he had spotted weeks ago were very obviously still there, and they needed to be addressed unless he wanted to keep finding twisted cutlery scattered about in his penthouse.

Bucky gave him a relieved smile. “I like that idea,” he said, setting the forks down on the counter. He hesitated and reached for the cutlery drawer with his flesh-and-blood hand, pulling it open. “You, uh, might want to call in some repair people,”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “What else did you break?”

“It’s nothing big,” Bucky said quickly, his smile turning sheepish. “It’s just my stove,”

“Right,”

“And my fridge,”

“What did you do to the _fridge_?” Tony asked, his eyes wide with horror. “That was brand-new! It was barely out of the box!”

“I pulled the door off by accident yesterday morning when I was reaching for the milk. Oh – and the sink in my bathroom needs some help too,” Bucky said, dropping the new forks into Tony’s lap. He picked up his plate and stalked over to the coffee table. Tony wheeled along after him, hurrying to keep up.

“Did you tell Jarvis about this?” Tony asked, slightly breathless. “Because you could have told Jarvis and he would have taken care of everything,”

“I told Jarvis,” Bucky said, setting his plate down on the coffee table. He lifted Tony’s plate out of his lap and picked up the forks, setting everything down on the coffee table beside his own food.

“And what did Jarvis say?” Tony grunted. Bucky helped him out of the wheelchair and onto the couch; he sank gratefully into the cushions, pleased to be out of the wheelchair once more.

“Jarvis said I had to take it up with you,” Bucky said, sitting down. He handed Tony his plate and then picked up his own, tossing Tony a fork.

“Jarvis?” Tony said, stabbing at his noodles. “Why _exactly_ did you tell him to talk to me about ordering in new appliances?”

“Mr. Barnes has broken two fridges, three stoves and five sinks in the past week alone,” Jarvis said, curtly. “I felt it was better to have him inform _you_ of the damage so you could decide what the best course of action would be,”

Tony turned and stared at Bucky, flabbergasted. “How the _fuck_ did you break two fridges, three stoves and five sinks?”

“I was floor-hopping,” Bucky said through a mouthful of food. He shrugged. “Accidents happened,”

“So you broke things and moved on? Is that it?” Tony asked.

“Yep,”

“And the others were fine with this?”

“They don’t exactly know,” Bucky said, flashing Tony a grin.

Tony groaned. “Am I going to be getting a lot of angry Avengers visiting today?”

“I don’t think so,” Bucky said, licking sauce off of the tips of his fingers.

“Oh?”

“I’m pretty sure they think _they_ broke everything,” Bucky said. “I just didn’t correct them when they told me about it.”

Tony nearly snorted his noodles. He coughed into his arm and glared at Bucky through watery eyes.

“What can I say?” Bucky smirked. “I have a _gift_ for deception.”

Tony shook his head and turned back to his plate. “Jarvis,” he muttered, “do me a favor and order in the replacements for everything Bucky’s destroyed,”

“Do you wish to include the ten t-shirts and three pairs of pants Mr. Barnes has inadvertently torn while trying to put them on?” Jarvis asked.

Tony turned back to Bucky. “Do I even want to know?”

“In my defence,” Bucky said, gesturing with his fork, “Things are a lot tighter than they used to be back in my day,”

Tony sighed. “Replace it all,” he said. “Is there anything _else_ I should know about?”

“Do you want to tell him, Mr. Barnes,” Jarvis said, “or shall I?”

Bucky flushed and shoveled more food into his mouth.

Tony scowled. “What now?”

“Mr. Barnes has broken your coffee maker,” Jarvis said, flatly.

Tony set his plate down on his lap and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. “Define _broken_ ,”

“The carafe is warped and the rest is unsalvageable,” Jarvis said. “I am afraid it will have to be thrown out,”

Tony groaned loudly. “You killed my _baby_?”

“Hey,” Bucky grumbled, his cheeks flushed, “I was just trying to make you some coffee. It’s not my fault the fucking thing folded in on itself.”

Tony groaned again for good measure.

 

 

Tony graciously allowed himself to be wheeled down to his workshop by a suitably abashed Bucky. With breakfast taken care of, his medication swallowed and the penthouse’s coffee machine mourned, Tony hadn’t seen a reason for dawdling upstairs. He wouldn’t get into any trouble for sneaking off to do work today – not when the upgrades to Bucky’s arm were _essential_ , and considering the amount of damage that had been done around the tower, he was pretty sure he could get away with milking _that_ excuse for at _least_ another few days.

Tony idly opened up the file that contained the control module for the cybernetic arm; all the coding he needed was here. Jarvis had already run diagnostics on the arm itself to see what needed to be fixed, and thankfully there was nothing physical he needed to tweak; all of the problems were being caused by a bit of faulty code. He wasn’t exactly proud of the fact that it was _his_ code causing the problems, but at least it wasn’t completely unexpected. Bugs happened all the times and he had known about all about these ones when he had left on his trip. Nothing new had surfaced.

Tony hummed to himself while he worked. He typed away one handed, using his holographic keyboard, his gaze glued to the text floating in front of him.

Bucky cleared his throat, trying to get Tony’s attention for the tenth time that hour alone. He was sitting on a rolling chair beside Tony’s worktable; he spun in a lazy circle and cleared his throat again when Tony didn’t acknowledge him.

Tony sighed in exasperation. “What?” he hissed, not looking away from the code dancing in front of him. He squinted in irritation at an error and fixed it.

“Is there anything I can do while I’m down here?” Bucky asked.

“What do you _want_ to do?” Tony asked. “I mean, you can push a broom around if you see some dirt, but I think you’re going to have to fight Dummy for the broom. On second thought, no. Don’t do that. You’ll break him and I like him dent-free,”

“I _said_ I was sorry,” Bucky muttered, sounding hurt.

“Yes, you did,” Tony sighed, fixing another errant piece of code. “Tell you what. I’ve got some stuff I wanted you to look over for the Beach House renovations. You may as well do it now,”

Bucky cocked his head to the side. “Why did you need _me_ to look it over?”

“Well, one of the houses is eventually going to be yours. I figured you might want to do some design work,” Tony drawled. He tapped at the hologram in front of him and threw an electronic folder through the air.

Bucky flinched and nearly rolled out of his chair when the folder flew at him, attempting to avoid it as if it was a stray projectile.

Tony chuckled. “You’re still not used to that, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky muttered. He sat up straighter and tentatively tapped at the holographic folder in front of him with his flesh-and-blood hand; the cybernetic arm had been shut down the minute Bucky had stepped into the workshop. There was too much here to break, and most of it was irreplaceable – or at least inconvenient to replace. Bucky had whined about it, but after a few minutes of stress free poking and prodding, he had relaxed and calmed down considerably.

Tony moved on to the next block of code. “So, you’ve got a bunch of stuff to look through. There’s curtains, paint, flooring – there’s a whole checklist you need to go through. You can pick anything in that folder, but if you don’t find anything you like, feel free to get Jarvis to find you some more samples,”

“Seriously? You’re getting me to pick out _curtain patterns_? What are we? A married couple?” Bucky growled.

Tony shrugged. “Hey, the heart wants what it wants. If you want Sesame Street carpet or some nice Dora the Explorer curtains, who am I to stop you?”

“Very funny,” Bucky muttered, flicking through files. “You didn’t have to put in all this effort for me, you know,”

“I didn’t do it just for you,” Tony said. “I’m doing this for _everyone_. I like it when people enjoy the projects I’m working on. If you don’t want a say, then close the file and I can find you something else to do,”

“Fuck _that_ ,” Bucky grumbled. “I’ve already picked out curtains – it’s too late to stop now,”

Tony chuckled. “Well, alright then. And hey, if you spot anything you think Steve would like, let me know and I’ll throw it in his place,”

“Sure,” Bucky said, flicking through flooring options. “I take it you’re still working on things down there?”

“Down there?”

“At the beach,”

“Oh. Yeah,” Tony said, clearing his throat. “We’re still getting everything up to code in some of the buildings. The construction’s going pretty fast,”

“That’s not what I meant,”

“I know, but I’d rather not have that conversation right now – or ever,”

“Fine. Well, as long as my place doesn’t look like a fucking closet, I think I’ll enjoy the place,” Bucky said.

Tony frowned. “That’s not funny,”

“I know,” Bucky said, his eyes still on the hologram in front of him. “I was there, _remember_?”

“I wish I _didn’t_ ,” Tony muttered, glaring down at the keyboard. He wondered if Steve was going to look at him funny when he got back. Tony shuddered; he rubbed at his hand as goose bumps broke out across his skin. Don’t think about it, he ordered himself. Don’t think about it.

Ah shit. Too late.

Should he have warned Steve about the videos?

Some of it was pretty disturbing. It had been bad enough going through it in real time; he wasn’t so sure anyone should _ever_ have to see it.

Shit.

Yeah, that was bad.

Fuck!

He had screwed up – oh god had he screwed up!

He could fix it though. He tried to tap into Steve’s tablet, hoping to sneak into the system without being caught. The footage was broken up into different files and if he was lucky, he would be able to find the ones from that fateful night on the beach before they could be viewed – he knew all the file names, after all. All he needed to do was hit search and Jarvis would do the dirty work for him.

It was too late; the text blinked in front of him over and over again.

Viewed.

Viewed.

Viewed.

Tony didn’t realize that he was hyperventilating until he felt Bucky’s breath against his cheek. He was being hugged and he hadn’t even noticed. He leaned into Bucky’s chest, hating that he needed the contact so badly. It was oddly comforting in spite of the fact that he could see flashes of the beach every time he blinked.

“You’re fine,” Bucky murmured. “It’s fine. You’re in the Tower – not on the beach,”

“It’s _not_ fine,” Tony croaked, forcing himself to take in a deep breath through his nose.

“What happened?” Bucky asked. “Is it Steve? Did something happen to Steve?”

“What am I? Lassie? He’s fine – but he watched the fucking _security footage_ ,” Tony snapped, squeezing his eyes shut as another wave of panic bubbled up. He could practically _feel_ the sand in his socks. “Oh god – he _knows_ ,”

“You’re fine, Tony,” Bucky said. He started rubbing soothing circles on Tony’s back. “You are fine. What happened isn’t going to happen again. It will _never_ happen again,”

“Yeah?” Tony asked, laughing shrilly. “Shit, what am I doing?” He turned in Bucky’s grasp, desperate to lose himself in code again. At least the code was forgiving; it couldn’t look at him like he was broken. It wouldn’t think he was weak.

Bucky let Tony go, but remained standing behind him, still close enough to touch. He watched as Tony started wildly tapping away at the holographic keyboard again, his expression pensive. “Tony?”

“What?” Tony snapped, his eyes locked on his work. He needed to do this – he needed to get this done, now. Thinking about the Beach House wasn’t going to help anyone, but thinking about bastard who had made that fateful night on the beach possible would. It had been a while since he had checked in on the search for the Red Skull. Maybe Jarvis had found something – maybe SHIELD had something. Maybe they could finally catch him.

“Steve’s not going to think any less of you,” Bucky said, softly. He hesitated and then put his hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony slumped under Bucky’s touch. “I know,” he muttered. “I know.”

“You don’t _sound_ like you know it,” Bucky countered.

Tony scowled. “I have work to do,”

“Look,” Bucky said. “If you want, I can head out and disappear for a while until things cool down,”

“No,” Tony said, quickly. He turned slightly in his chair, locking eyes with Bucky. “No. You don’t need to leave. It’s fine. I’ll get it under control, I swear. I’ll fix things. Steve’ll hate it if you disappear on him. You can’t do that – not now.”

“You don’t have anything to fix,” Bucky said, squeezing Tony’s shoulder. “I’m the one who should be groveling for forgiveness,”

Tony turned around and slumped forwards in his chair, resting his elbows on the table in front of him. “I just want him to be himself again, you know? I don’t want him to get nightmares because of _me_ ,” he murmured, running his fingers through his greasy hair. “He’s going to be so fucking _angry_ when he gets back here,”

“What the fuck are you talking about? He _is_ himself. Believe it or not, he’s always been this much of a pain in the ass,” Bucky said. He smoothed down Tony’s hair. “Look,” he said, “If he’s angry, it’s not going to be you he’s angry with – it’ll be me and the Skull he wants to kill. We’re the ones who fucked everything up. _I’m_ the one who attacked _you_ on that beach. I’m the one who almost got you _all_ killed – there’s no way he’s going to blame any of that on you,”

Tony rolled his shoulders. “Can we not talk about this?”

“Tony,” Bucky grunted, flicking Tony in the ear. “Steve used to get thrown in dumpsters _weekly_. He went up against tons of guys who were out of his league, and yeah, he didn’t win but no one thought less of him for it. I don’t think he’s going to think the worst of you just because you got your ass handed to you by a super assassin,”

Tony smiled reluctantly. Maybe Bucky was right. “A _super_ assassin? I don’t know if I’d go _that_ far,”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Call it what you want,” he said. “He’s still not going to think you’re a loser.”

“Alright,” Tony said, letting out a shuddered breath. The tension bled out of his body slowly; his shoulders slumped. “If you say so,”

Bucky sat down in his rolling chair, turning back to the holographic files in front of him. “Alright. So flooring,” he said, looking down at the files.

“Right. Flooring,” Tony said, turning back to his code. He let the search for the Skull stay up in the corner of the screen; when it was done, he wanted to know.

“Hey,” Bucky said looking up. He cracked a smile. “ _I’m_ doing the flooring. _You’re_ doing the arm, remember?”

“Right, right,” Tony said, smiling back at Bucky. “Fine. I’ll leave you the hard stuff,”

“Good,” Bucky grunted.

 

 

Installing the bug fixes in Bucky’s arm took mere minutes once they finished compiling; Bucky seemed reluctant to leave workshop, but he eventually slunk away once dinnertime rolled around, retreating upstairs with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He brought down a pizza and left it on Tony’s work desk, along with a can of root beer, letting Tony focus on his work.

Tony did eat, eventually. He devoured every last slice of pizza in the box, and by the time he started feeling genuinely drowsy, he found he had not only inhaled everything edible in range, he had worked the night away. Still, he couldn’t stop – not until he checked on the Skull again.

The searches he checked in on came up empty; so far, SHIELD had no information, and no one in AIM or Hydra was talking. What was clear, however, was that the Skull had lost minions with his disappearance. No one seemed to want to follow someone who abandoned them at the drop of a hat and those who had been interested in joining the Skull’s ranks had mysteriously vanished.

Doctor Doom, on the other hand, seemed to be out and about, if the news was anything to go by. He had been spotted no less than ten times already that day alone and while no one seemed to know what had attracted his interest, he seemed more than happy to share his displeasure with nearly everything he came into contact with. He had been seen kicking an ice cream truck for ‘inferior quality’ and had then circled the city in a vehicle he had probably built himself, cruising around with his diplomatic immunity keeping him out of SHIELD’s grasp.

Too tired to work any longer, Tony glanced at his cot and found the kid’s stuffed sesame seed bagel. Turning it around in his hands, he sighed and flattened himself out onto the cot, resting his head on the bagel. He pulled the custom Captain America duvet out from under the cot and wrapped it around his shoulders. He closed his eyes. Steve hadn’t called in yet, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to; he hadn’t come back yet either. The tests were probably taking longer than expected, that was all. It was fine. Steve would be back later, once everything was taken care of. Hell, he might even be a Super Soldier when he came back. Tony closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

 

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony was happy to have Steve home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to put up, but I had to fiddle with the ending and it took a bit more time than I would have liked. Let me know if you find anything funky! 
> 
> This is the last chapter - and then the Epilogue! :D Stay tuned!

“Hey,” Steve said, softly. He was sitting on the edge of the cot, with his feet dangling over the side. He looked tired, and there were dark bags under his eyes. He carded his fingers through Tony’s hair again.

Tony smiled sleepily up at Steve; he hoped Steve couldn’t tell he was nervous. “Hey,”

“I just got back,” Steve said, muffling a yawn with his arm. “Sorry. I should have phoned. Things ran longer than expected,”

“That’s ok,” Tony mumbled. He shifted under his blankets, making room for Steve. He didn’t expect Steve to crawl in with him, but he liked the idea of it being an option.

Steve shook his head and chuckled. “You should be sleeping upstairs in a real bed,”

Tony blew a lazy raspberry. “I’m  _ fine _ ,”

“Well, _ I _ don’t want to sleep on a cramped cot. I got enough of that when I was in the army,” Steve said. He stroked Tony’s hair again, his movements slow and steady. He sighed. “I missed you, today,”

“Yeah?”

“It’s always so quiet when you’re not around,” Steve said.

“I’m the centre of the universe, what can I say,” Tony said, wiggling under the blanket, “Or so I’ve been told.”

Steve’s smile grew wider. He shifted until he was sitting on the patch of mattress Tony had left free, and lifted his legs up he was more comfortable. He glanced around, taking in the room around them as though seeing it for the first time; his gaze fell onto the sesame seed bagel pillow, still tucked under Tony’s head. His breath hitched.

Tony looked up, startled by the noise. “What? Is something wrong?”

Steve’s eyes were watery. He blinked and wiped at them, swallowing hard. His lower lip trembled.

“Steve?” Tony sat up, leaning on his good elbow. “Are you alright?”

Steve slid forwards and wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck, burying his face in Tony’s throat. His response was muffled. “You still have it,”

Have it? What the hell was Steve talking about? Tony rolled onto his back and eased Steve down so he didn’t have to put so much weight on his elbow. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s small frame, mindful of his cast and held on tight. He shifted until the pillow was tucked comfortably under his head again; everything clicked at once. “You’re talking about the pillow, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Steve mumbled. “Why do you still have it?”

Tony frowned. “Why _wouldn’t_ I have it?”

Steve pulled away slowly, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “It was mine,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Tony chuckled, “It was. It’s mine now though,”

“You really liked me, huh?” Steve said.

“Little you was my favourite,” Tony said, smiling fondly. The little guy had been the best thing in his life – up until Steve had come charging back into it.

Steve’s expression turned mournful. “I’m sorry,”

“No, no,” Tony said. “Don’t look at me like that.” He reached up and stroked Steve’s cheek. “ _You’re_ my favourite,” he said. He held in the words _I love you_ not because he didn’t mean them, but because he didn’t want to blurt them out and scare Steve off. Those words had always felt weighty to him, far heavier than anything else he had ever thought or felt and yet they were simply made of air. Trapped in his mind, they were safe, but outside of it they were vulnerable - _breakable_ ; here with Steve, however, he _knew_ they were safe. He felt lighter knowing that maybe one day, he could set them free. He smoothed his thumb over Steve’s chin, wiping away an errant tear. No matter what happened, he would always love Steve and maybe one day, Steve might feel that way about him too.

Steve leaned forwards and pressed his lips to Tony’s. The kiss was tentative at first but the hesitancy didn’t last long; neither of them wanted to back away. They moved together so fast they bumped noses. Tony cupped the back of Steve’s neck with his good hand. He kissed Steve again and again; Steve kissed back just as passionately, his hands latching on to the front of Tony’s shirt. When they pulled apart, their breathing was labored; they pressed their foreheads together, both of them smiling. Tony sat up.

“Did you really mean that? I’m your favourite?” Steve asked, shifting his body closer. He slid his hand around Tony’s side and dug his fingers into the fabric again, holding on tight as if he expected Tony to disappear on him.

“Of course I did,” Tony grumbled, giving Steve another slow kiss. He pulled back before they really start at it again, needing to speak. “I like you a lot, Steve. I’ve been trying to talk to you about it for weeks,”

“You have?” Steve looked horrified.

“What?” Tony asked, stiffening. Hadn’t they just been kissing? So why did Steve look like he wanted to jump out of bed?

“ _Weeks_?” Steve stuttered, his cheeks turning pale. “You’ve been – for _weeks_?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tony mumbled, sheepishly. “Is that a problem?”

“Weeks,” Steve repeated, sounding breathless. “ _Weeks_?”

“Weeks,” Tony said, giving Steve another gentle kiss on the lips. He pulled back and tangled his fingers in Steve’s short hair. “I should have just asked you out a long time ago,”

“Weeks,” Steve said, blinking dazedly. “Weeks? You’re – you’re _serious_ ,”

“Of course I’m serious,” Tony said, tweaking Steve’s ear. “I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t serious. I’m not that much of a jackass,”

“But I thought,” Steve mumbled. He rubbed at his ear. “I thought you weren’t interested in me,”

“Well, I am,” Tony said.

“But what about Bucky?”

“What _about_ Bucky?” Tony asked, scowling. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“He was right. He said it, and I listened but I wasn’t really sure I could believe it,” Steve mumbled, looking away. His cheeks flushed dark red. “Oh, god. I had it so _wrong_ ,”

“What?” Tony said. “You had _what_ wrong? Did I do something?”

“What?” Steve looked up from the mattress sharply, his eyes wide. “No! You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, slipping closer. He pressed his face into Tony’s throat again and wrapped his arms around him. “I’m sorry,”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Tony murmured.

“I want Bucky to be happy,” Steve said, his voice going soft. “I want him to be happy so _badly_ , and when I saw the way you two were looking at each other, I thought it was because you two loved each other,”

“Steve,” Tony sighed. “We’ve been over this. Bucky and I are not dating – we were never dating,”

“Just listen, alright?” Steve mumbled. He pulled back just enough to look Tony in the eye. “I need to explain.”

“Alright,” Tony said. “Go ahead.”

“I never thought it would be possible to get him back,” Steve said. “I thought we would never see each other again, and when I saw him in that hallway with you, I almost couldn’t believe it. He looked so happy to see you,”

“He was happy to see _you_ ,” Tony said dryly. “I don’t think he really gave two shits about seeing me, even if I was breaking him out,”

“You don’t understand,” Steve sighed. He let his hand drop into his lap. “You’ve never seen him when he was down.” He shook his head, hunching his shoulders. “After I got him back from the Skull’s camp during the war, it felt like a part of him was missing. He smiled, but it was never warm – never real. He always looked like he was hurting himself when he smiled – like it would break his face. But it was different in that hallway. Yeah, his hair was a little longer and he was missing an arm, but he was _happy_. He looked honest-to-god happy.” Steve chuckled darkly. “I would have given anything to get that part of him back – that carefree part of him.”

“He’s still that guy,” Tony said, softly.

“I know,” Steve said. “But that part wasn’t the problem. I’ve kind of always had a crush on you and I was going to say something back then – after you ate that bagel, but then we started fighting and I ruined the moment.” He let out a weary laugh. “I messed up.”

Steve’s face crumpled. “When I woke up in that cell, I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.” He shifted in place and took Tony’s hand in his, cradling it between his hands. “I was tiny and pathetic again – and there you were, suffering all because of me and I couldn’t even apologize properly. It was my fault you were there and I should have done something to fix it.”

“Steve,” Tony murmured. “Think of it this way. If you hadn’t been hit with that damn beam, we would have never found Bucky,”

Steve stilled.

“No one knew who the Winter Soldier was,” Tony continued. “SHIELD just knew he was a guy people hired to get dirty jobs done. They didn’t even have a way of keeping track of him. If he hadn’t come after us – as awful as _that_ was – he would have never returned to being Bucky Barnes. Don’t regret that. It happened, and yeah, parts of it sucked, but all of us came out stronger,”

Steve smiled, softly. “I guess you’re right.” He sighed again. “I love having Bucky back. I don’t know what I would do without him. He’s always been there for me. I guess I just wanted to be there for him for once.”

“You _are_ there,” Tony said, stroking Steve’s hand.

“But I wasn’t – not really,” Steve said. His smile turned bittersweet. “We got back here, and I didn’t know how to act. I wanted to let you two have the chance to get together, but when I pushed you away, it felt like I was jamming a crowbar into my chest. I kept trying to come out and tell you how I felt, but whenever I had the chance I couldn’t say anything. It was stupid to keep everything to myself, I can see that now, but at the time it just felt like I would ruin things between you and him if I ever said anything.” Steve cleared his throat and his wiped at his eyes. “So I stayed quiet – but that didn’t work. I just kept making things worse and worse. So I started avoiding everyone,”

Tony swallowed painfully.

“I managed to talk to him, though,” Steve said. “I got that part right. He thought I was out of my mind – told me I was nuts for thinking about him and you that way. I didn’t believe him though. He’s said stuff like that before when we were kids – he always puts me first and I didn’t want him to have to do that this time. I just wanted him to have someone to take care of him,”

“What are you talking about? He has people who want to take care of him. He’s got you still, you know,” Tony murmured.

“It’s not the same,” Steve sighed. He looked down and shook his head. “We’ve always taken care of one another, but this time I wanted him to have something for himself – something we didn’t share. I didn’t want to take you away from him,”

“You didn’t,”

“But it felt like I had,” Steve said, softly. “It felt like I was stealing something and by the time I realized that I wasn’t it was too late.”

Tony leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead.

“I thought I’d fucked it up, you know?” Steve continued, his tone flat. “I had spent so much time pushing you away, it felt like everything was over and done with. I didn’t think I had a chance after that, and then you said all that stuff about how Bucky wasn’t the man for you, and I guess I just assumed you had found someone else.” Steve leaned back to look Tony in the eye. He looked tired now, almost world-weary; it was a look Tony hadn’t seen since the first time they had first met. “Do you want me?”

Tony smiled at Steve. “Of course I do. I want you so much, it hurts,”

“Ok,” Steve stuttered. He looked sheepishly up at Tony. “I mean, I figured that you were ok with me, because you kept giving me those looks and all, but I didn’t really think you’d _want_ me,”

“I want you,” Tony chuckled.

“I saw the security footage,” Steve said. He looked uncomfortable, as though he wasn’t so sure what to say. After a few seconds of contemplation he spoke again, his voice still steady but flat. “Bucky told me that things went bad when you were all staying at the Beach House, but he didn’t really give me any details. He told me I needed to see it for myself,”

“Yeah, I heard,” Tony said. He sighed. Here it was – finally. He swallowed hard and kept his head up. It would be alright. Steve wasn’t going to despise him – right?

“I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared before. Watching that footage – I thought I was going to watch you _die_.” Steve’s voice broke. He held Tony’s hands against his chest; he was trembling slightly, his shoulders shaking. “I didn’t know what I was looking at, at first. I thought it was just going to be another day and then Bucky _attacked_ you out of the blue. I nearly broke the tablet when I tried to shut the damn video off,”

“Steve,” Tony murmured. “He wasn’t himself back then. He didn’t know what he was doing,”

“I know,” Steve said, his voice filled with anguish. “And that was what makes it so much worse – because I know him – I know he’d _never_ do something like that. I was looking at a _stranger_ who was trying to kill you.”

“We’re alright,” Tony said, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Everything turned out fine,”

“I know why you were so upset when I cleaned up my room,” Steve said, softly. “I was such an _asshole_. I shouldn’t have tried to push you away like that.”

Tony smiled tentatively. “You wanted your room back – that’s not something bad,”

“I should have asked before I started tearing through things,” Steve said. “I should have _asked_ – just like how I should have asked Bucky if you two were together – if he was interested in you – but I didn’t. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry that I didn’t see what I was doing to you,”

“ _Steve_ ,”

“I didn’t want to hurt you like that,” Steve said. “I didn’t want to mess things up so badly, but I did,”

“Steve,” Tony said, pressing a kiss to Steve’s forehead, “Honey, I’m not mad at you. It wasn’t you fault,”

“I can fix it though,” Steve said, pulling free. He made as if to scramble out of the cot and then froze, catching himself at the last minute. He turned back to Tony, and remained on the cot, perched on his knees. “I didn’t get rid of anything,”

“You didn’t?” Tony was stunned by the news. He had assumed that Steve had handed everything off to Goodwill or some other charity by now; he hadn’t though Steve had hung on to anything the kid had owned.

“I couldn’t do it,” Steve said. “I left the boxes in my room under a sheet, and when Bucky moved into his own floor, I stuffed everything into the guest room.”

“Jarvis didn’t tell me _that_ ,” Tony murmured. “I feel like I should be mad at him,”

“Don’t be. I asked him not to say anything,” Steve said, sheepishly. “I wanted to tell you myself when you got back from your trip, but nothing went the way I planned.” He smiled softly, nodding to the bagel pillow. “I was looking for that, by the way,”

“You were?”

“I went through all the boxes when I got back from SHIELD today,” Steve said, rubbing his thumb over Tony’s knuckles. “After I saw those videos, I knew I needed to find it. I wanted to give it back to you.”

Tony handed the pillow to Steve. “It’s yours, you know,” he said. He would be sad to see it go, but if Steve wanted it, he wasn’t going to say no.

“No, it’s not,” Steve said. He turned the pillow in circles, looking down at it with a fond smile. “It _was_ mine – it’s _ours_ now,”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Ours? We’re sharing custody of it?”

“I’d like to,” Steve said. “If that’s alright with you,”

“I’m fine with that,” Tony said, setting his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I can give you back all the other stuff – if you want it. Or we could share that too,”

“Sharing sounds nice,” Steve said. “I’d like that,”

“That’s good,” Tony said. He pulled the duvet up over his shoulders. “Because I like this blanket and I don’t want to give it back,”

“So I see,” Steve chuckled. He leaned forwards and kissed Tony; the pillow was squashed between them when he looped his arms around Tony’s neck. “Thank you for not hating me,” he murmured.

“I could never hate you,”

“I mean it. Thank you,” Steve said. He squeezed Tony’s hand. “I don’t even want think about you hating me,”

Tony snorted. “Me? Hate you?” he said. He lifted Steve’s chin and looked him in the eye. “You’re the guy who makes me a better person – and I know how corny that sounds, but it’s true – I could _never_ hate you.”

“You’re a good person with or without me,” Steve said, shaking his head. He leaned forwards and kissed Tony sweetly on the lips, pulling back afterwards with a goofy looking smile on his face. “Can we go upstairs now?”

“Oh? Bored of me already?” Tony teased.

“Never,” Steve said, solemnly. He tucked the bagel pillow under his arm and stood up, stretching out catlike in front of the cot. “I got some good news today,”

“Oh yeah?” Tony watched Steve’s every move. “Did they give you anything new to work with?”

“Sort of,” Steve said. He set the bagel pillow down on the cot and retrieved the wheelchair from beside the bed, rolling it over to the front of the cot. He helped Tony stand, his hands resting squarely on Tony’s hips.

“Remind me to break my leg more often,” Tony said, winking at Steve.

“Very funny,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. He gave Tony’s hip a squeeze and smirked when Tony’s eyes widened. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, as Tony dropped the duvet onto the cot beside the bagel pillow. “I’ll manhandle you all you want when we’re upstairs,”

Tony grinned and sat down heavily in the wheelchair, sinking into it. “You’ve got a deal,”

“Good,” Steve said. He folded the duvet into a neat square and set it down on Tony’s lap. He scooped up the bagel pillow and set it down on top of the duvet and gave it a pat. “There. I think we’re good to go now.”

“Looks like it,” Tony agreed.

“I’m just glad you have elevators in this place,” Steve said, turning them around. “Back when I was little, you had to hop up the stairs one at a time if you broke your leg,”

“That sounds absolutely _exhausting_ ,” Tony murmured, as Steve wheeled them towards the elevator. “I hope you didn’t have to hop up stairs too often,”

“I had a few occasions to hop,” Steve chuckled. “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.” He cleared his throat. “So, how was your day?”

“It wasn’t super exciting. I did some upgrades to Bucky’s arm and he did some interior decorating for me,” Tony said.

“Oh?” Steve looked concerned. “What happened to his arm?”

“It was just some routine bug fixes,” Tony said, quickly. “I meant to patch most of the problems before I left, but there wasn’t exactly a lot of time. Let’s just say your fridge and stove are safe from harm now,”

Steve let out a loud laugh. “That was _him_?”

“He only admitted it because Jarvis ratted him out,” Tony chuckled. “He’s a _crafty_ bastard, I’ll give him that much.”

“That’s true. He once broke one of our neighbor’s windows and got caught red handed. I _still_ don’t know how he managed to convince the guy it wasn’t him,” Steve murmured. He shook his head. “He’s always been good at getting out of trouble.”

“Speaking of trouble – what happened at SHIELD today? You never did say,” Tony said. He was dying to know what had kept Steve there for so long. Had the scientists discovered a way to reverse things? Had they found a cure? Steve certainly didn’t look any different, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t done anything.

Steve seemed almost giddy when he spoke again. He skipped around the wheelchair and locked the wheels to keep it from rolling away, grinning widely the entire time. “They didn’t get anything out of the tests they did, but they _did_ manage to track down the maker of the gun,” he said, calling the elevator. He stepped back behind the wheelchair, his hand held above the breaks, ready to go.

“Hey! That’s great news!” Tony said. He leaned back so he could look up at Steve, and grinned. Good news was the _best_ kind of news. “So what happens now?” he asked. “Did they shake the answers out of the jerk?”

Steve leaned down and kissed Tony. “I don’t think they really had to do that. It was more like they were contacted by the maker. Apparently it wasn’t supposed to be wandering around town on its own. It was stolen, and because it was experimental, it was never registered or patented. I’ve got an appointment to meet the guy tomorrow afternoon,” he said as the elevator arrived.

Tony batted his eyelashes up at Steve. “Oh yeah? Who’s the special guy? Somebody I know?”

“I think he’s a friend of yours, actually,” Steve said, pushing Tony into the elevator. “His name is Reed Richards.”

Tony scowled darkly at the mere _mention_ of Reed’s name. They had never really gotten along – mind you, Reed didn’t really get along with anyone other than his wife. The guy was barely tolerable and had the personality of a rock; it was a miracle he had managed to find someone willing to date him, let alone bear his children. If Tony hadn’t been there to hand off the baby shower gifts to Susan Storm, he would have thought Reed had built himself a robot family.

“I take it he’s not your best pal,” Steve said, sardonically. He pushed Tony out into the penthouse, his strikes smooth and quick. He scowled briefly at the dirty dishes still sitting on the counter, but ignored them, driving Tony straight to his bedroom. There he hesitated, hovering in the doorway with Tony a few inches ahead of him.

“You can come in, you know,” Tony said. “I kind of don’t mind if you’re in my bedroom,”

Steve smiled weakly. “Alright,”

Tony frowned. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Steve said, quickly. He wheeled Tony over to the bed and then paused, taking far longer than necessary to put the brakes on. He hovered beside the wheelchair, gnawing on his lower lip, and then lunged forwards, flipping the blankets on the bed up so there was space to crawl under them.

“Seriously – is something wrong?” Tony asked. He wondered what could have happened to change Steve’s mood. Was it something he had done? They had barely started to talk! He stood up bracing himself with one hand on the chair and one on Steve’s shoulder. “You can say anything to me, you know that, right?” he said.

“I know,” Steve mumbled. He helped Tony climb onto his bed and then crawled onto it after him. He didn’t lie down; instead, he sat cross-legged, with his hands clasped in his lap. He had a distinctly nervous on his face. Something was _definitely_ wrong, but he wasn’t talking – at least not yet.

“Steve,” Tony said, flopping carefully onto his back. “If you don’t want to sleep here, you don’t have to. I’m not going to force you to stick around,”

“It’s not that,” Steve murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. He let out a long, slow sigh. “I _want_ to spend the night here with you,”

“But?” Tony cocked an eyebrow.

“But I don’t want to have sex,” Steve blurted out. He didn’t seem to be able to look Tony in the eye after that; his cheeks went pink and then went white.

Tony smiled, finally understanding. Steve was _nervous_! That was alright – he wasn’t going to make Steve do anything he didn’t want to do; all he wanted was for Steve to feel comfortable. He patted Steve’s knee. “While sex with you would be _awesome_ , I wasn’t expecting it to happen right this second,” he said.

“The thing is,” Steve mumbled as the tips of his ears went lobster red, “I don’t think I want to have sex at _all_ in this body.”

“You don’t?” Tony rubbed his thumb over Steve’s knee, but didn’t move his hand any higher, not wanting to seem pushy.

“No,” Steve said, quietly. “Can we go to sleep?”

“Sure,” Tony said. He rolled up the blankets and slid into the middle of the bed, leaving space behind for Steve. His casts were heavy, and his arm and leg ached from the move. He grumbled to himself when his leg cast got caught in the sheets. He was going to enjoy getting them taken off – assuming of course he had the patience to wait for a doctor to do it for him. Taking them off on his own with a hack saw was starting to look like a good idea.

Steve stood up and looked around Tony’s room. “Can I borrow some pajamas?”

“Go for it,” Tony said. It didn’t take him too long to remember that he was still a tad overdressed for bed. He wiggled his way out of his shirt and then moved to pull off his sweat pants. “Uh, is it alright with you if I sleep in just my boxers?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Steve said. He pulled open the nearest cupboard and quickly closed it.

“I take it you found my ties,” Tony chuckled. He hadn’t _wanted_ a cupboard filled with ties; he didn’t particularly like them, because whenever he wore one it felt like he was slowly being strangled to death. It was more that he tolerated them, because if he didn’t, Pepper and the Board would give him death glares and despite being a billionaire, he actually did need to keep people pacified and on his side.

To be fair and to give credit where it was due, Pepper was the one who started his tie collection. She always made sure he had a few on hand for all his various press conferences because she knew he had a tendency to spill things on himself. Over the years she had started giving new ties to him out of habit; he had gotten better with the whole spilling-stuff-on-himself thing, but she hadn’t stopped bring him spare ties. He had over two hundred different ties now, and the number would likely keep growing.

Tony gestured to the closet, trying not to look like he was bragging. “The closet on the left is filled with shirts. The pajamas are in my dresser in the third drawer down – if you want one of those instead,”

Steve smiled, looking relieved, and pulled open the third drawer. He looked inside and laughed, lifting out a Captain America t-shirt; it was well used and stretched out. Tony groaned aloud and buried his head under his arm. He had forgotten that was still in there.

“What?” Steve said, innocently. He stripped out of his clothes speedily and tugged the shirt on before Tony could see him. The shirt was so baggy on him, it looked a little bit like someone had tried to wrap him in a circus tent; he didn’t seem to mind. The smile on his face was so bright, Tony had a hard time looking away. He crawled into bed and rolled onto his side, facing Tony. “So,” he said as Jarvis dimmed the lights.

“I like your shirt,” Tony said, grinning back.

Steve pulled the blankets down over them. “Good night, Tony,” he said. He leaned forwards and kissed Tony on the lips once.

“Really? _That’s_ the good night kiss I get?” Tony smirked and batted his eyelashes.

Steve leaned forwards again. He gave Tony another quick kiss on the lips. “Yep,” he said as he pulled back. “That’s all you’re getting,”

Tony chuckled and closed his eyes. “Good night, Steve,”

“Good night, Tony,” Steve mumbled. After ten minutes of staying on his side of the bed, he slid closer and snuggled up to Tony, burying his nose in Tony’s shoulder. Tony wrapped an arm around Steve’s middle and snored affectionately into his ear.

 

 

Tony woke up with a sore shoulder and an aching leg. He looked around groggily, hoping to spot a glass of water and his pain meds, but there was nothing in sight. The bed beside him was empty; the sheets and blankets were cold. Sighing mournfully, he sat up and inched his way across the mattress towards the edge. He would have to make it into the kitchen on his own.

“Tony?” Steve stepped into the room. His hair was dishevel and he had a bit of batter on his cheek; he was still wearing the shirt he had borrowed from Tony’s dresser the night before, and he had pulled on a pair of pajama pants he had likely scrounged from Tony’s dresser. He shuffled closer, carrying a glass of water and Tony’s pill bottle. “Oh, good! You’re up,”

Tony blinked blearily at Steve. “What time is it?”

“It’s eleven thirty,” Steve said, handing Tony the glass of water and the pill bottle. “I’ve got to be at the Baxter Building for one, so I decided to get up early.”

Tony wrestled the cap off of the pill bottle and swallowed two of the little white pills with a grimace. He chugged the water and then let Steve take the pill bottle and the glass back. “Thanks,” he grumbled, rubbing at his sore shoulder.

“I’m sorry you woke up alone,” Steve said, softly. He set the pill bottle and glass on Tony’s bedside table and moved forwards, tucking himself neatly between Tony’s knees. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s chest, resting his chin on Tony’s shoulder. “I would have woken you up earlier, but I figured it would be easier if you got your pain meds with something to eat,”

Tony smiled and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, resting his cast against the waistband on Steve’s pants. “I like how you think. You’re my favourite Avenger – did I tell you that yet?”

Steve chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, “Although I’m not sure I’m much of an Avenger at the moment.”

“Screw that,” Tony said flapping a hand. “You’re Captain America – you’ll always be an Avenger.”

“Whatever you say, Tony,” Steve said.

“So when do I get my good morning kiss?” Tony asked, innocently.

“You can have one as soon as I put this stuff away and check on the pancakes,” Steve laughed. He pulled away reluctantly and picked up the pill bottle and cup. “I’ll be right back.” He stepped out of the room, and disappeared for a full ten minutes before reappearing without the glass or the pill bottle. He stepped back in-between Tony’s knees, tangling his fingers in Tony’s hair and kissed him, hard.

Tony’s toes curled in the carpet. “Now _this_ is what I’d call a good morning,” he murmured.

Steve gave Tony another kiss. “Want to come with me to the Baxter Building for my meeting?”

“Sure,” Tony said. “I might want to take a shower first though. It’s been a while and I’m pretty sure that if I turn up smelling like a day old fish I’m not going to make it through the front door,”

Steve smiled. “I can help you if you want,” he said, smoothing down Tony’s bedhead. “But no funny business,”

Tony saluted Steve and leaned forwards, giving him another long, sweet, kiss. “Done,” he said. “All we need now are some plastic bags so my lovely casts don’t get wet,”

Steve chuckled. “I think I saw a few in the kitchen,” he said. “Hold on, I’ll go get them.”

Tony grinned.

 

 

Later, full of pancakes and only mildly damp from his shower, Tony found himself in his wheelchair again. He didn’t mind it so much now. He was glad to be free from the twin plastic bags that had been protecting his casts; the crinkling sound they made when they were wet had nearly driven him up the wall.

With Steve at the helm, they made their way down to the lobby, where they found Happy and Natasha waiting for them. Tony had figured they would get an honor guard for the trip, but he hadn’t been expecting to see Happy.

Happy grinned at Tony and leaned down, giving him a rib crushing hug. “How’s it going, boss?”

Tony grinned back, smacking Happy on the back with his good hand. “I thought you weren’t doing any more chauffeuring? The Head of Security doesn’t need to be here to personally drive little old me around town, you know,”

Happy snorted. “And let you get there late? I don’t think so,”

“Natasha’s not _that_ bad of a driver,” Tony said.

Natasha smirked at Tony. “I see you’re trying for a full body cast,” she chuckled. “That’s _interesting_ ,”

Tony smiled nervously and cleared his throat. “No, no. I’m good.”

Happy chuckled. “We’d better get going now if we want to get there on time,” he said, heading towards the door. He hesitated in mid-step and then took a step to the side, letting Natasha walk out first. He adjusted the collar of his crisp white shirt, fiddling with his suit jacket until she nodded for him to follow her outside.

Tony smirked. “You forgot she’s taking point, didn’t you?”

“I forgot how much of a pain in the butt you are,” Happy grumbled good-naturedly. “Pep told me it was dangerous, but I didn’t think you’d need an _assassin_ to take you out for a drive,”

“When is someone _not_ after me?” Tony said. “I’m pretty sure the day that happens, we’ll be overrun with flying pigs.”

Steve sighed wearily and pushed Tony out the door as Happy held it open. “It would be nice if they could leave us alone for five minutes,” he said dryly.

“Somehow I don’t think they’re going to do that,” Tony said.

“Then maybe we need to go on a super-secret vacation,” Steve grunted.

“Agreed,” Tony said. He reached behind him and patted Steve’s hand. “Did you have somewhere in mind for your super-secret vacation?”

“I did, actually,” Steve admitted. He rolled the wheelchair down the street to the curb and helped Tony up, letting Happy fold up the wheelchair. He wrestled the car door open and waited for Tony to crawl inside, helpfully lifting Tony’s leg cast so he couldn’t accidentally smack it on anything. He crawled into the car after Tony was seated, and patted at the seat, hunting round for Tony’s seatbelt.

“So where would you like to go?” Tony asked, letting Steve belt him in. Normally he would be furious if anyone tried to do something like that for him, but the thought of Steve doting on him made his heart flutter.

“Well,” Steve said, putting his own seatbelt on, “I think I’d like to go to the Beach Houses,”

Tony swallowed painfully. The Beach Houses? _That’s_ where Steve wanted to go?

“I mean, if that’s alright with you,” Steve said, hastily catching sight of Tony’s expression.

“No, no,” Tony said, putting on his brightest smile. “I need to visit once the construction’s done anyway – Mrs. Jia is probably going to want to give me the grand tour and all that. I think I can manage a few days there,”

“Tony,” Steve murmured, his brow furrowing in displeasure, “Really. You don’t have to go just because of me. We can pick somewhere else,”

Happy got into the car and pulled out his keys. He glanced over his shoulder at Tony and frowned. “Something wrong, boss?”

“It’s nothing,” Tony muttered. He reached out and took Steve’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I can handle it. It’s not that big a deal – I mean, I did it before. I can do it again,”

Steve’s frown deepened. “What do you mean you did it _before_? When did you go back?”

Natasha opened up the passenger’s side door and sat down. She quirked an eyebrow at Tony as she closed the door. “Are we talking about the Beach House?”

Tony sighed. “No – we’re not,” he said, flatly. He didn’t want to talk about it, but apparently everyone else did.

“I was thinking about going there for a visit,” Steve said.

“I take it you finally got around to watching the surveillance footage,” Natasha said. Her face was expressionless; she watched Steve curiously. “I had a feeling you would want to go poke around there,”

“I’ve been meaning to thank you for taking care of him,” Steve said. “I mean it – thank you.”

“Not a problem, Captain,” Natasha said, giving Steve a sharp salute. She turned to Happy. “That’s your cue to start driving the car, by the way,”

“Right,” Happy grunted, starting the car. “So are you two dating now or what?”

Tony looked over at Steve; Steve smiled back at him.

“Yes,” Steve said. He didn’t even hesitate. “We’re dating,”

“ _Hey_ ,” Happy said, slapping the steering wheel. “That’s great! I’ve got to tell Pep,”

“Just drive the car, Hap,” Tony grumbled, leaning his shoulder companionably against Steve’s. “You can spread the good news later. You can interrogate us all you want,”

“Good,” Happy said. “Because Pep’s been texting me all damn morning and if I don’t get any answers for her, she’s going to make me sleep on the couch tonight.”

“She wouldn’t be _that_ cruel,” Tony said, trying not to laugh. “You’re not _me_ – she _likes_ you,”

Happy turned around and squinted at Tony. “She just finished planning the wedding this morning, _pal_. She’s not the stress-free gal you saw a few days ago,”

“Oh?” Tony smirked. He leaned forwards, eager for new information. “So when’s the special day?”

“I’ll let you know when she tells _me_ ,” Happy grumbled. “We’re headed to the Baxter Building, right?”

“I’m guessing you’ve been there before,” Steve said.

“He has,” Natasha said, glancing down at her phone. “That’s why I asked him to come along. The way ahead is clear. Clint and Coulson have eyes on the route and they claim the traffic’s light,”

“Really?” Happy cocked an eyebrow. “At this time of day?”

“There’s some _unplanned_ construction,” Natasha said, her expression oddly blank.

“And that’s making traffic _lighter_?” Steve asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Rerouting happens all the time, Happy,” Natasha said. “Let’s just say a little traffic bug decided to mess with the system,”

Steve frowned.

“What?” Natasha said. “I don’t like heavy traffic.”

“Right,” Tony snorted.

“I don’t,” Natasha said, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Nope,” Tony said, smiling crookedly. “I have a quick question though,”

“Sure,” Natasha said.

“Are there going to be any burger joints around on the way back?” Tony asked. “Because I’m thinking we’re going to want celebratory burgers,”

“You _always_ want burgers,” Happy muttered. “Goddamned burgers,”

“Hey!” Tony said, indignantly. “You eat them too!”

“I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about,” Happy said, glancing over his shoulder at the rear-view mirror. “I eat healthy now, boss,”

“Right,” Tony snorted. He leaned up against Steve and mock-whispered in his ear. “He got high cholesterol. He thinks I don’t know about it but I do,”

“That’s because you’re not _supposed_ to know about it,” Happy grumbled. The back of his neck went crimson. “Did you hack my file again?”

“Technically?” Tony chuckled. “No. Why would I do that?”

Happy scowled. “You had Jarvis do it for you, didn’t you?”

“Nope,” Tony said. “Not this time.”

Natasha smirked. “I know it’s hard to believe, but Pepper told him,”

“That she did,” Tony drawled.

“Why the hell did she do that?” Happy grunted.

“She wants you to stay away from the burgers,” Natasha chuckled. “And she knows Tony is a bad influence.”

“She warned me that if he gains any weight, it’s going to be my head on the chopping block – not his,” Tony murmured to Steve.

Steve laughed. “She’s worried you’re going to make her fiancé fat?”

“It’s a legitimate fear. Tony loves grease, and he has a very bad habit of inviting people along for his burger runs,” Natasha said. “Happy’s usually the one who drives and gets the spare tire.”

“He’s my getaway driver – that’s part of the job, right?” Tony grinned. “I don’t tie him to the steering wheel and force-feed him. He got that spare tire all by himself.”

“I can say _no_ to burgers,” Happy said, scowling at his reflection in the windshield.

“So why is Pepper threatening Tony with decapitation then?” Steve asked.

“Happy just bought his tuxedo for the wedding,” Tony said, tapping the side of his nose.

Happy groaned loudly. “How the hell did she figure _that_ out?”

“She reads the credit card statements, Hap,” Tony snorted. “Did you _really_ think that was going to get by her?”

“It should have! I didn’t even use _my_ credit card,” Happy muttered. “I used the company card you gave me,”

“Oh, bad decision there,” Tony snickered. “Pepper watches _all_ of my cards like a hawk. She says she doesn’t want to repeat the ’89 pancake-and-string-cheese fiasco.”

“Do we want to know?” Steve asked, hiding his smile with his hand.

“Probably not,” Tony said. “What happens in the 80’s stays in the 80’s,”

“I don’t know why she looked,” Happy groused, shaking his head. “She’s not supposed to see the tux until the wedding and I’m not supposed to see the dress! We had a deal!”

“So _I_ bought you your tuxedo?” Tony’s grin grew wider.

“ _Temporarily_ ,” Happy grunted.

“Oh, you _devil_ , you,” Tony cackled.

“I’m payin’ you back for it,” Happy said turning around to look at Tony.

“No you’re not,”

“Yes – I am!”

“Nope. Not happening,”

“I’ve already got the money saved up!” Happy protested.

“That’s nice,” Tony chuckled. He leaned back in the seat. “Hey – if I can’t buy Pepper her dress, I can buy you the tux.” He rubbed his hands together. “This works – good job Happy! You got my wedding present for Pepper all by yourself,”

Happy groaned exasperatedly and changed lanes. He made as if to turn and glare at Tony but stopped at the last second when Natasha put her hand on his shoulder.

“Eyes on the road,” Natasha said, calmly. She winked at Tony in the rear view mirror.

 

 

 

They weren’t greeted by Reed Richards at the Baxter Building’s front door. Tony hadn’t expected to be, but Steve clearly had and the look of utter disappointment on his face made Tony want to roll over Reed’s toes with his wheelchair. They were, however, greeted by a frazzled looking Susan Storm; in Tony’s books, that was a far better deal. Not only was Sue one of the kindest people he knew, she also had a habit of feeding her guests and he was all for free snacks. Sue smiled and walked them through the labs and into a room that looked like it had once been a break room at some point in time; every last inch of space had been taken over by toys and bits of broken circuitry. She took a moment to clear some space so Steve and Tony could sit down without ending up with something sharp and pointy embedded in their asses and carried a plate of muffins over, making sure both Tony and Steve had one.

Sue sank wearily into a puffy green chair across from them after dumping the muffin plate onto the coffee table. “So,” she said, looking Steve over. “I take it you’re the one who got hit,”

“Yes,” Steve said. His smile was strained. “I don’t mean to be rude, ma’am, but I thought I was going to be meeting with your husband,”

Sue let out a weary sigh. “You’re not wrong. You _were_ supposed to be meeting with Reed, but he started something in the lab that he declared uninterruptable and I got stuck doing his dirty work,” she said. She glanced over at Tony, who was wrestling one-handed with his muffin wrapper. “I see you’re sporting some fancy accessories there. They look lovely,”

“Thanks,” Tony said, tearing the wrapper off. He balled it up in his hand and set it down on the coffee table. “Steve gave them personality,” he said taking a bite out of his muffin. It was pumpkin spice. Oh god, was it good.

Steve smiled and peeled the wrapper off of his own muffin, setting it down beside Tony’s.

“Was this another one of your ‘tennis accidents?” Sue asked.

“ _Sure_ ,” Tony said. “Let’s call it that,”

Sue chuckled.

“The Red Skull didn’t like my attitude,” Tony said, taking his last bite of muffin. He leaned back into the couch, setting his arm cast on the armrest so it would stop clubbing him in the thigh when he moved. He was pretty sure he was going to have a few lovely bruises because of it.

“Ah, yes,” Sue said, nodding along. “I heard about that. It sounded like quite the mess.”

“When he turns up again, he’s going to get his ass handed to him,” Tony growled.

“Well, I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about him too much. He’s got some problems of his own. Doom wasn’t very happy about his tech being appropriated,” Sue said.

“Really? AIM stole from _him_?” Tony asked. He hadn’t heard about any theft – at least not anything when it came to things being stolen from Doom. Latveria was a quiet place – at least at the moment – but the only person around with exceptional bots was Doom. It didn’t really surprise Tony to hear that AIM, and in essence, Hydra, had latched onto Doom’s tech.

“A few of the higher-ups apparently thought it was a good idea to lift some of his designs. Doom was _extremely_ unimpressed,” Sue chuckled and shook her head. “He’s been hunting for the thief _personally_. I don’t see this ending well for any of them,”

“And here I was thinking he _liked_ to share,” Tony laughed.

“Now _that’s_ something I’d like to see,” Sue said. “ _Victor Von Doom_ , sharing with lesser mortals,”

“I get the feeling like he’d rather shower in battery acid than share his toys,” Tony said.

“That sounds about right,” Sue said. “He even called me in to the Latverian Embassy to talk about it,”

“What did he want?” Steve asked.

“Oh, the usual,” Sue said, shrugging. “World domination is still high on his list, although right now I think he would be more than happy to settle for the name of the bastard who stole his tech. His bots are highly specialized and he doesn’t like his secrets escaping – especially not to someone connected to Hydra. He detests the Red Skull – did you know that?”

“No, actually,” Steve said. He looked startled by the admission. “I didn’t. I thought they got along,”

“Oh no, no,” Sue said, clasping her hands over her knee. “Doom’s _very_ specific about the kinds of crimes he commits. There’s _evil_ and then there’s the Red Skull’s brand of evil. Doom’s an ass, but he’s not the kind of person who kills like that.”

“I think if I was the Skull, I would be very worried right about now,” Steve chuckled

“I wouldn’t want to be in the Skull’s shoes. Doom’s going to humiliate him and he’s going to want to make it public,” Sue said, smiling brightly. “But enough about them. You’re here about the gun,”

“Indeed we are,” Tony said, perking up. He rubbed his hands together. Tech was one thing he could deal with and if he needed to work on the gun, he was all ready to start tearing it apart. “So – what’s the news? Good? Bad? A little bit of both?”

Steve smiled nervously at Sue. “I wouldn’t mind it being good news,”

Sue’s smile turned brittle; she sighed and hung her head. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Captain Rogers, but you’re not going to be returning to normal any time soon,”

Steve slumped against the couch, staggered by the information; his shoulders rose up around his ears. He swallowed audibly. “There’s _nothing_ you can do? But I thought you guys made that gun. Don’t you have a way to reverse what it does?”

“Sadly, no,” Sue murmured. She turned and glared at the door they had walked through. “My _wonderful_ husband might be brilliant, but he tends to have a one track mind. He made the gun, intending to use it to look at time via cellular growth – I won’t bore you with specifics, but it causes living cells to cycle back and forth through their lifespan, making the subject age on a whim. It’s a tricky subject at the best of times, and after a while, he ended up putting it down to work on something more interesting. He forgot all about it.”

“You’re _kidding_ ,” Tony said. “He didn’t finish it? It seems like a hell of a project to just _abandon_ ,”

“I’m not sure why he lost interest in it, but by the time he remembered what he had been doing, it had been gone for days,” Sue said. Her expression turned pinched. “ _Normally_ we have better security when it comes to technology,”

“Naturally,” Tony said, smoothly. Reed might have been socially awkward, but he wasn’t stupid; he knew better than to leave tech lying around.

“But _unfortunately_ , my brother and children thought it would be interesting to take the gun out for a field trip,” Sue said. Her cheeks turned faintly pink. “They’re not normally bad kids,”

“I’m sure they aren’t,” Tony said, hoping to smooth things over. “Kids are kids – and they’re smart. It’s not surprising they wanted to play around with it,”

“Oh, they didn’t just play around. The kids improve the gun all on their own,” Sue said. “I have no idea how they did it, but they even managed to fix all of the problems Reed was having with it.”

“Impressive,” Tony said. He couldn’t help grinning. It was nice to see kids taking an interest in science and technology. He had spent far too much of his childhood alone because no one else in his age group had been interested in the same things.

“I thought so too,” Sue said. “ _Unfortunately_ , they were attacked while they were testing it. They never did see what it could do when at full strength. I believe they were intending to de-age a couple of trees – nothing big or dangerous, obviously. They wanted something impressive that lacked pain receptors,”

“And someone attacked them,” Steve said, quietly.

“Yes,” Sue said.

“Are they alright?” Steve asked.

“They’re shaken up, but they’re fine,” Sue said, smiling apologetically. “I would have contacted you sooner, but I wasn’t in this dimension. Johnny was the one who should have dropped you a line, but he never got around to it. He’s going to be suffering through endless housework for years after this fuck up,”

Steve didn’t seem happy with the news. He pursed his lips in displeasure. “We can hunt the attackers down if you want,” he said. “Anyone who attacks children deserves to get thrown in jail,”

“That’s alright,” Sue said. “We caught the guy already. It wasn’t hard – he wandered around town firing at everything after he got that first shot off. He was pretty easy to find.”

“I wish they were all that easy,” Tony chuckled.

“Same here,” Sue sighed. “But don’t worry. The gun’s down in containment again – where it should have been to begin with. It’s not going anywhere any time soon and neither is the thief.”

“So I’m stuck like this?” Steve asked. His hands clenched and unclenched on his knees. “It’s not going to wear off?”

“Oh, no, no, no! It’s not _permanent_! God no! It’s going to wear off eventually,” Sue said. “The kids are a bit more practical than their father. They added in precautionary measures – the blast was tweaked to never end up permanent. They didn’t want to do something they couldn’t fix. I’m assuming your body has started reverting already, considering you’re here and you’re an adult,”

“You’re right about that,” Tony said. “We found him when he was a kid. He was around seven years old.”

“That’s good!” Sue turned her scowl to the hallway again. “I guess we were lucky things worked out so well. You _could_ have ended up as an infant,” she muttered. “I don’t even want to _think_ about how much of a nightmare that would have been.” She eyed Tony and let out a world weary sigh. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can see you taking care of a baby for that long,”

Tony scowled. “Hey, I took care of him practically on my own! Everything was fine. I think I could handle a baby,”

“No offense, Tony, but it’s more difficult with babies – especially new babies. When I had my first, I nearly went out of my mind worrying.” She shook her head sadly. “It’s stressful enough for a family, let alone for a single parent.”

Tony carefully schooled his expression. There was no sense in being angry. He knew what people thought of him, and if he had been the one passing judgement, he would probably think the same way. “Sure,”

“I’m sorry,” Sue said. “I’m not being fair to you. I don’t know the details, but I’m betting you did just fine with the Captain when he was little,” Sue said, giving Tony a tentative smile. “The pictures Agent Coulson sent me were adorable,”

Tony shrugged. “I guess I did alright.”

Steve stiffened. “You did more than _alright_ ,”

Tony shrugged again.

“Tony,” Steve sighed.

“Its fine,” Tony muttered. “Let’s just get back to business, alright? Everyone knows I’m an irresponsible asshole. It’s not like it’s something I’ve never heard before,”

Sue scowled. “No one said _that_. I’m sure you would do fine with a baby if you had some help,”

“I said its fine,” Tony grunted. “Can we just drop this?”

Sue crossed her arms and scowled at Tony. “You’re not always the poster boy for healthy living, you know,”

“No shit,” Tony growled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can we get back to business here? I think my sordid lifestyle can wait,”

Sighing in exasperation, Sue turned to Steve. “I’m sorry, Captain. I really didn’t mean to scare you earlier,”

“That’s alright.” Steve sat up straighter. He smiled tentatively, leaning forwards so far he nearly came up off the edge of the couch. “So this thing _isn’t_ permanent? I’ll be me again – someday?”

“It’s not permanent,” Sue said with a nod. “I’m going to have to run a few scans in order to see where your cellular growth has ended up, but that won’t take too long. As I said, the kids did a good job. Unlike my _husband_ ,”

“That’s good news,” Tony grunted. He reached and squeezed Steve’s knee.

Sue cocked an eyebrow. “Are you two dating?”

“Yes, we are,” Steve said.

Sue let out a startled laugh. “That’s wonderful!” She stood up and dusted herself off. “Really,” she said, smiling fondly at Tony. “I’m happy for you both. You’re a good guy, Tony, even if you are an ass sometimes. You deserve to have someone sweet around,” she said. She winked at Steve. “I don’t know you very well, Captain, but I like you. Take care of Tony, alright?”

“Don’t worry,” Steve grinned. “I will.”

“Good,” Sue said. She let out a low groan when she found a blob of something sticky stuck to her leg. “One of these days I’m going to throw Johnny out on his ass.” She tossed the wadded up muffin wrappers into a small garbage can near the wall. “Alright, Captain. Let’s go get you scanned. I’m sure Tony won’t mind waiting for us here,” she said. She gave Tony another wink. “I’ll have him back in bit, don’t worry.” She turned when they reached the door. “Oh, and if you see Reed – or any part of him – feel free to smack him.”

“Right,” Tony chuckled. “Will do,”

 

 

Tony swore he was only closed his eyes for a split-second before he found himself face to face with Reed Richards. The guy was all head and neck; where the rest of his body was hiding was a mystery, although if he had followed the stretched out flesh, he would have probably found the rest of Reed eventually. He jerked away from Reed’s nose, and lifted his cast-clad arm, and started swinging, having taken Sue’s words to heart. Unfortunately, Reed was a bit faster than he was and the swing missed by a mile. Damn Reed and his rubber-band body.

Reed didn’t seem to notice the attempted assault. “What happened to you?” he asked, glancing at Tony’s raised arm.

“Tennis accident,” Tony growled.

“I see. Have you seen Sue?” Reed asked. His head and neck twisted away, heading back towards the door. “We’re supposed to go out to dinner,”

“She’s scanning Steve,” Tony said. He knew better than to get angry with Reed; it wouldn’t do anything other than irritate _him_. “You know – the _Avenger_ who took a blast from your stolen time gun? Steve Rogers?”

“It’s not a _time gun_ ,” Reed said, flatly. “Why does everyone keep calling it that? It doesn’t have anything to do with time travel,”

“Don’t bother giving me the spiel, Sue already explained everything,” Tony said.

“Ah, I see,” Reed said. He fell silent, staring at what seemed like an arbitrary point on the floor and then frowned. “You’re not here for dinner, are you? Because I’m pretty sure it’s my anniversary,”

“I’m _not_ here for dinner,” Tony said, trying not to laugh. He knew how easy it was to get lost in thought, but he had never seen it happen to someone else before – at least not to _this_ extent. Maybe this was why Jarvis always had to yell at him to get his attention when he was in the workshop. He was pretty sure that Reed was working, and that the other half of his body was busy doing it something else.

“Then why are you here?” Reed asked.

“I’m waiting for Steve,” Tony said, patiently.

“Oh – right,” Reed said. He fell silent again.

“I take it you’re working?” Tony asked, curious.

“I’m always working. So you don’t know where Sue is?”

“She’s with Steve,” Tony said. “Why don’t you just use the security cameras to find her?”

“I can’t,” Reed sighed. “Sue’s cloaked them.”

“I take it she’s mad?”

“I would have to assume so,” Reed said. “Thankfully, I don’t need the cameras to track her. She’s using one of the handheld scanners. Ah yes. There she is.” He turned his head around and vanished out the door.

Tony sighed and made himself more comfortable in his corner of the couch. He wondered how much longer he was going to have to wait.

 

Steve and Sue returned fifteen minutes later. Steve’s face was pale; he looked shaken, and while he was smiling, it didn’t quite look right. Tony wondered if he had caught sight of Reed in the hallway. That sight alone would have traumatized anyone.

Sue put an arm around Steve’s shoulder, reeling him in close. “It’ll be alright, Captain,” she said. “It will wear off,”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He smiled at Tony, slipping out from under Sue’s arm. “Hey. We’re all done here – let’s head out,”

“Alrighty,” Tony said. He pushed himself out from between the couch cushions and stood up, stretching as best he could. “Did you two have fun?”

“I wouldn’t say _that_ ,” Steve sighed. He pushed the wheelchair over and helped Tony clamber back into it. “Thanks again, Sue,” he said, wheeling Tony towards the door.

“Hold on. I’ll walk you out,” Sue chuckled. She reached out and put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and on the top of Tony’s head as they walked.

“Hiding us from Reed again?” Tony chuckled.

“He emerged from his lab?” Sue snorted in disbelief. “Did he tell you it’s our anniversary?”

“He seemed to think that Steve and I were sticking around for dinner,” Tony said.

“Our anniversary was _three days ago_ ,” she groaned. “He looked me straight in the eye and said ‘give me another five minutes and I’ll be ready.’”

“Wow,” Tony whistled. “I take it those five minutes took him three days? I think he beat my record,”

“I’m pretty sure he only realized his five minute were up because the kids wandered in and told him,” Sue said dryly.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, he seemed to know he was in trouble,” Tony said.

They approached the front doors, where they found Happy and Natasha sitting on a bench beside a row of potted plants. Happy was too busy playing games on his phone to hear them approach. Natasha was busy gazing at the horizon through the door; she frowned, seeming to sense that something was amiss, but didn’t turn to face them.

“I really am sorry about what happened,” Sue said, letting her hands drop to her sides. She smirked a little when Natasha whirled around at the sound of her voice. Happy promptly fell off the side of the bench, dropping his phone with a squawk.

“You ok, Hap?” Tony drawled.

Happy scrambled upright and dusted himself off, scooping up his phone. “Yep – I’m fine. How are you guys? Did you get good news?”

“I’m afraid it’s a mixture of good and bad,” Sue said. She patted Steve’s shoulder consolingly again. “Three and a half years is a long time, but at least there’s light at the end of that tunnel. I hope things work out for you, Captain,”

Tony’s eyes widened; if he had been able to fall out of the wheelchair, he probably would have. _Three and a half years?_ Steve was going to stay like this for three and a half years? Why the hell hadn’t Steve _said_ anything? He had thought it was only a few more weeks – hell, maybe a few months at tops! Natasha and Happy looked equally shocked; they exchanged looks and then looked away, focusing on Sue instead of on Steve.

“It’s only three years, four months and three days,” Steve said with a shrug. “It could be worse. I went twenty five years like this – I think I can last another three,”

“Still,” Sue said. “I’m really sorry we can’t do anything more to help. I can send the kids over to do chores for you if you want – god knows they owe you one,”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve said. His smile bordered on forced. “Really. I’m just glad they took the time to fix the thing up before they took it out on the town. At least I’m not stuck like this _forever_ ,”

“That’s very true,” Sue said. She noticed something and scowled, her hands dropping to her hips. “I can _hear_ you, Reed. Don’t lurk – it’s rude, and frankly, a little creepy.”

Reed’s head peeked out from around the corner. “Ah, there you are,” he said. He stretched his neck out towards them until he was face to face with Sue. He smiled at her, clearly seeing but not understanding the look of annoyance on her face. He kissed her cheek. “So, are you ready for dinner?”

“We should probably go,” Steve said. He glanced over at Reed and quickly turned away, grasping the handles on Tony’s wheelchair tightly. His scowl was so sharp, it could have cut glass.

“I really am sorry, Captain,” Sue called out, pushing Reed’s head out of her way. “If you ever need a scan or help with anything, just come by and we’ll fix you up.”

“Thanks,” Steve said. “The Avengers could probably use the help,”

“The Avengers aren’t the ones I’m worried about,” Sue said, softly. “Take care, alright?”

“Sure. Thanks, Sue,” Steve said. He pushed Tony towards the door. “Let’s go home.

Natasha took point and led them out of the building.

 

 

Happy drove them to a Sit-n-Chew; it wasn’t the classiest burger joint in the place, but it had massive burgers that cost next to nothing, and they all wanted something they could sink their teeth into. After hearing the bad news, there were no smiles to be found. Steve was attempting to put on a brave face, but Tony could tell that the news had devastated him. It would be three and a half years until Captain America could return to the cowl, and that had to be weighing pretty heavily on Steve.

Tony ate slowly. He had been hoisted out of his wheelchair, and while the booth was padded, it wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the wheelchair had been. He watched Steve out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure out what to say. There was bad news and then there was _this_. At least there was hope of Steve returning to his regular body; it wasn’t permanent. He would love Steve no matter what happened – he just hoped that Steve knew that.

Happy’s phone rang. He ignored it at first, not wanting to pay attention to anything other than the burger in his hands but when it rang again, and again and again, _incessantly_ , he sighed, set the burger down, wiped the grease off of his fingers and answered it. “Hello?” he growled. His face paled. “Yeah, he’s with us – hold on a sec. I’ll pass you over.” Happy gestured to Tony. “It’s Pepper,”

Tony took the phone and set his burger down. “Hey, Pep,”

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice sounded calm, but there was an underlying wariness to it. “Did you happen to order something for me? As a wedding present?”

Tony frowned. “Uh, no. Not that I recall. Jarvis would know – ask him.”

“Tony,” Pepper said, softly. “There is a _crate_ sitting in my hallway.”

“A crate?”

“Yes,” Pepper said. Her voice sounded strained. “There is a crate in my hallway and there appears to be someone passed out inside it.”

“What?” Tony tried to stand up and smashed his knee into the tabletop. Swearing loudly, he adjusted the phone against his cheek. “What do you mean there’s someone passed out in it? Whatever you do,” he said, gesturing wildly for the waitress and their bill, “Do not open it!”

“Too late,” Pepper said after a second of silence. She let out a loud, shaky laugh. “Oh my _god_ ,”

“Oh god – what is it? Is it bad?” Tony sat down as his leg gave out.

“Well, now I know the gift wasn’t from you,” Pepper said. “There’s a card and it’s signed,”

“You’re killing me here,” Tony sighed. He fished his credit card out of his wallet and handed it to the waitress, who took it away. “Do you need us to rush over there, or are you alright?”

Happy’s eyes widened; he froze, his burger hanging in his fingers. “What’s going on?”

“The card says, ‘Dear Mrs. Potts,” Pepper said, “’I wish to give you a gift for your upcoming nuptials, as the Avengers and Stark International have both recently done me a great favor. Thank you for choosing to systematically dismantle AIM. I look forward to seeing them beaten bloody on television again. Yours truly – Doctor Doom.”

Tony clenched the phone in his hand, nearly hitting end call by accident. “ _Doctor Doom_ sent you a wedding present?” he said, hoarsely.

Happy dropped his burger on to his plate and scrambled upright, looking around for his keys.

Natasha cocked an eyebrow. “Is she alright?”

“She hasn’t said,” Tony grunted.

Steve stuffed the last of his fries into his mouth. “Ask her,” he mumbled.

“I heard that – and I’m fine,” Pepper said. “I already called SHIELD. They’re on their way to pick up my _present_.” She laughed again, and this time she sounded close to hysterical. “Oh my god – I need to take a picture of this. Hold on. I’ll call you back.”

Tony stared at the phone in his hand. “ _She hung up on me_ ,”

“Intentionally?” Natasha asked, wiping a smear of ketchup from her lower lip.

“I think so,” Tony said.

The phone chirped as it received a picture message. Warily, Tony pressed open. He nearly dropped the phone into his cup of coffee. There, immortalized in HD was the Red Skull. He was lying unconscious in a wooden crate, surrounded in green and black packing peanuts. His entire body was wrapped in green and black duct tape and there, resting atop his revoltingly misshaped head, was a bow made of gold ribbon.

Without saying a word, Tony passed the phone around so the others could see it.

Steve sipped at his soda. He took the phone after Happy was done staring at it and let out a loud snort. He quickly covered his mouth; he coughed, his eyes watering and thumped himself on the chest. “What the hell did I just _look_ at,” he rasped.

Natasha patted him on the back and took the phone away so she could get a better look at what had made Steve nearly inhale an ice cube. She looked almost uninterested until her own phone chirped. She took it out of her pocket, checked it and smiled. “I think I just found my new wallpaper,”

Tony chuckled. “I think we all did.” He passed the phone back to Happy, who took it, paled, and then sank wearily down into his seat again.

“Well,” Happy said, “it could be worse.”

The phone rang again. Happy answered it almost immediately. “Are you alright?” He sighed and handed the phone back to Tony. “She wants to talk to you,”

“Hello,” Tony said. “What’s up?”

“So,” Pepper drawled. “I was thinking about having the wedding for Christmas. What are your thoughts?”

Tony chuckled. “Uh, it sounds good to me, but shouldn’t you be talking with your _husband-to-be_ about that part?”

“He knows it’s an option,” Pepper said, briskly. “I’m just thinking about confirming it now that the Skull’s out of the way for good,”

“That’s a very good point,” Tony chuckled. “Hey, Happy, what are your thoughts on a Christmas wedding?”

Happy chewed thoughtfully on his burger. “Will we still get Christmas presents?”

“That’s a very good question,” Tony said. “Did you hear that, Pep?”

“I heard. Tell him yes. Christmas presents will be involved,” Pepper laughed.

“Excellent,” Tony said. He nodded to Happy. “She says yes,”

“Then I’m fine with it,” Happy said. He took another bite out his burger. “Don’t tell her we’re eating burgers,”

“Do you want me to send Happy back with a celebratory burger, by the way?” Tony said to Pepper.

Happy scowled. “ _Jerk_ ,”

“You’re at the Sit-n-Chew, aren’t you,” Pepper said. If Tony could see her, he was pretty sure he would find her with her head in her hands.

“Of course. We wanted comfort food after our trip to the Baxter Building,” Tony said. He hesitated and fell silent. Should he tell Pepper what had happened? It didn’t seem like Steve was too upset about them knowing how long it would take for him to regain his super soldier form, but he didn’t want to just blurt it out. It seemed rude. He bumped shoulders with Steve and put his hand over the phone. “Are you alright if I tell Pepper how long it’s going to last?” he asked.

Steve sighed and chewed at a fry. “Go ahead,” he said, after a second. “It’s not going to be a secret for long. I’ll have to tell everyone anyway,”

“Alright,” Tony said. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, Pep – had to ask Steve a question.”

“How did his tests go?” Pepper asked. Her voice turned soft. “Is he going to be alright? Did they tell him anything new?”

“We talked to Sue Storm and she took Steve in to do some scans. The gun was a prototype Reed Richards whipped up in his lab,” Tony said with a sigh. “His kids got a hold of it and fixed it up. They took it out for field testing with their jackass of an uncle and somehow it ended up stolen. She didn’t really give us the details on how they got it back, but it’s locked up nice and tight now.”

“I see,” Pepper said. “So I take it Steve’s going to be small for a bit longer,”

“Sue said he’s going to be like this for another three and a half years,” Tony said.

“Three years, four months and three days,” Steve said, picking up another fry.

“Sorry, three years, four months and three days,” Tony said. He bumped his shoulder against Steve’s again; Steve turned and smiled tiredly up at him.

“That’s too bad,” Pepper said, softly. “There wasn’t anything they could do to make it wear off a little faster?”

“Sue said there was nothing she could do. She did offer to send her brats over to do chores around the tower as penance though.”

“How is he taking it?” Pepper asked.

“He seems alright,” Tony said. “I mean, it’s only three and a half years. It’ll go by in the blink of an eye,”

Steve scowled and tossed his napkin down on his plate. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” he said. He stood up and squeezed past Tony and then stopped, hovering at Tony’s side. He reached out and put a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony smiled at Steve. “You ok?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “I’ll be back in a bit.” He let go of Tony’s shoulder and slipped away, heading off to the bathroom.

“Tony?” Pepper said.

“Yep?” Tony said. “Things alright on your end?”

“SHIELD agents just showed up. I’m going to have to let you go now,” Pepper said. “I’ll call you later and tell you how things went.”

“Do you want me to send Happy by?” Tony asked.

“There’s no rush,” Pepper said. “I’ll see you later – and I’ll bring more pictures,”

“Alright,” Tony chuckled. “See you later, Pep.”

“See you later, Tony. Give Happy my love,” Pepper said, hanging up.

“Pepper says she loves you,” Tony said. He handed the phone back to Happy and let his elbow rest on the table. “I don’t know. Three and a half years is a long time,” he murmured, shaking his head.

He saw Natasha nod out of the corner of his eye and turned to her. “Any ideas on what we should do?”

“He’s got his friends with him,” Natasha said. She set her napkin delicately on her plate and picked up her drink, sipping at it. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do. He’ll be fine as long as he has you,”

“I hope he _knows_ he’s got us,” Tony grumbled.

“He’ll figure it out eventually,” Happy said through a mouthful of burger. “Just stick with him boss. You’ll be fine,”

 

 

Tony shivered. It was cold out on the tower’s penthouse balcony tonight. He hadn’t intended to come out here, but after the awkward drive home and Steve’s abrupt departure in the lobby, he had felt like spending some time out with the stars. He sighed and shifted the blanket over his lap. It was a nice night but it would have been even nicer with Steve at his side.

He didn’t blame Steve for wanting some time alone. After getting such bad news, it was only natural to want to think about things. Still, he wished he could have helped more. It felt a little like he was leaving Steve to suffer alone, and he didn’t particularly like that. Still, despite his feelings, he knew better than to push. When Steve was ready, he would come back.

Tony wheeled himself over to the nearest deck chair. It was ugly as sin, but he hadn’t bought it for its looks; he had bought it because it was massive, heavily padded and could accommodate three people at a time. He lifted himself up, balancing precariously on his good foot and sank down into the chair, letting himself stretch out fully for the first time all day. He let out a loud groan and wiggled the toes on his good foot. The air was nice up here and the stars were out in all their glory. He reached out and dragged the blanket off of the wheelchair, pulling it over his legs.

He sighed aloud and closed his eyes. At least today hadn’t been completely pointless. Yes, they had gotten some bad news but there was good news in there too; three years and four months wasn’t a death sentence. One day they would have Captain America back. To Tony, Cap would never be gone, but he wasn’t so sure Steve saw things that way. He hoped he could change Steve’s mind.

The elevator chimed from inside. Tony ignored it. It was probably just someone coming upstairs to mooch his food – again. He had left the patio door open just so he could hear if someone was coming or going; sure, Jarvis could tell him when someone came calling, but he preferred to know what was going on without having to ask.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was loud and yet tentative.

Tony leaned around the chair. “Hey,” he said, waving Steve over. “I didn’t think I’d see you again tonight,”

Steve carefully navigated the carpet and stepped outside. He wrapped his arms around himself and stood froze in the doorway, looking out at Tony. He had a paper bag in his hand, and it looked like it was filled with something heavy. “Can we talk?”

Tony patted the deck chair. “Sure. Why don’t you come sit down?”

Steve inched closer. He paused to look out at the city, his mouth half-open in awe as he took in the stars. “It’s beautiful up here,” he said.

“Yeah,” Tony said, his eyes glued to Steve, “It really is.”

Steve smiled softly. “I came with a peace offering,” he said, giving the paper bag a shake. He perched himself on the edge of the deck chair and opened it up, revealing two still-warm sesame seed bagels. “I figured I owed you one,”

“A peace offering? For what?” Tony asked, perplexed. “Technically it should be me buying you bagels,”

“I should have shared,” Steve said with a heavy sigh. He moved closer when Tony wrapped his arm around him and let himself be tucked underneath the blankets. “I’m sorry I yelled at you back then,”

“I know,” Tony said. “But to be fair, I would have yelled at me too. I was kind of a jackass. I should have asked before I stuck my grubby hands in your food,”

“Your hands weren’t grubby,” Steve chuckled. He set the bag of bagels down in between them.

“Yeah, yeah. You say that now, but you don’t know where I’ve been,” Tony murmured.

Steve turned his head and leaned up. He pressed a kiss to Tony’s chin. “I know exactly where you’ve been,” he said.

“Oh?” Tony asked. Sleeping around hadn’t exactly been the highlight of his life, but it sure had taken the sting out of being alone. With Steve here, though, there was no need for any of that. He was perfectly happy to spend the nights huddled away inside, wrapped in a blanket with Steve by his side, watching crappy movies – or doing anything, for that matter. As long as Steve was here, he would be happy.

“I googled you. I have to say, Mr. Stark, the media doesn’t do you justice,” Steve chuckled.

Tony smirked. “Don’t believe everything you read. I don’t actually fart dollar bills – that’s a myth,”

Steve snorted and buried his nose in Tony’s neck.

“I’m glad you came up here,” Tony asked. He smiled and turned his head, pressing his cheek to the top of Steve’s head. “I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” Steve murmured. He heaved a sigh. “It’s going to be three and a half years,”

“Yes,” Tony said, “It is.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you need to stick around,” Steve said. He ducked his head. “I know you’re used to a lot more… intimacy, but I can’t… I don’t think I can do it.”

“Steve,” Tony said, patiently. “I don’t care about the sex. That isn’t what this is about,”

“So you don’t want to have sex with me,” Steve said, his voice going lifeless.

Tony snorted. “Ok – in no way did I say _that_ ,” he said. He snuggled closer and let out a contented hum. “Honey, if you were interested, I would jump your bones right now – casts and all,”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“What?” Tony cocked an eyebrow. “It’s true. You’re gorgeous no matter what body you’re in,”

“I don’t want to – I don’t want to talk about this,” Steve said, burying his face into Tony’s throat. “Please – can we not talk about this?”

“What? About your cute little chubby cheeks?” Tony said, planting a kiss on Steve’s forehead. “The ones on your face are pretty cute too,”

Steve groaned again. “Stop it,” he laughed. His cheeks were bright red now, and growing redder by the second.

“There is nothing about you that isn’t attractive to me,” Tony said. He put his hand over top of Steve’s. “I don’t mind waiting. I’d wait a hundred years if I had to,”

Steve went still.

“You ok down there?” Tony asked, smiling crookedly. He stroked Steve’s hair. He wished he wasn’t weighed down with his casts or he would have wrapped himself completely around Steve.

“I’m ok,” Steve mumbled. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s middle, burying his face further into Tony’s throat. “Thank you,”

“For what?” Tony asked.

“For not pushing – and for not leaving,” Steve mumbled. “I don’t know what I would do without you,”

“Don’t worry. You’re stuck with my lazy ass,” Tony said, kissing Steve’s head again.

Steve sighed in contentment; he curled his fingers in Tony’s shirt. “So Pepper’s getting married, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I’m glad she found her forever guy,”

Steve smiled into Tony’s neck. “Her forever guy?”

“Yep,” Tony chuckled. “I’m thinking Happy’s going to be sticking around until he’s old and grey. If he put up with my shit for all those years, I think he can handle Pepper’s grumpy moments,”

“I’m glad to hear that. Pepper’s a lovely lady. She deserves to have someone like that in her life,” Steve said.

“Agreed. And hey, she got the best wedding present ever – a neatly wrapped up Red Skull. You can’t beat that. I’m kind of pissed I didn’t think of it first,”

“That does sound like an unbeatable gift,” Steve agreed. “So when’s the wedding?”

“Uh – she said she was thinking about doing it in December, but she hasn’t given me an actual date or time. I’m not even sure Happy knows yet,” Tony said. “I guess she’ll let us know when she figures it out. We’re got to get suits and everything, so she’ll probably tell us ahead of time. She’s not going to want a bunch of grubs showing up at her wedding,”

“That’s true,” Steve said. “Grubs would _probably_ look bad,”

“Plus, she says she doesn’t want me outshining Happy, so I have to find something well-tailored but repulsive. I think she said it should be done in sea foam green – or are hideous colours only for bridesmaids?” Tony hummed softly. “She has a thing for mermaids. She probably wouldn’t mind the sea foam green.”

“It’s probably for the bridesmaids,” Steve agreed. “But I don’t know. You’d have to ask her – I’ve never been to a wedding before.” He lifted the paper bag of bagels up and set them on Tony’s knee, peeling the paper back. “We should dig in to these before they get cold.” He lifted a sesame seed bagel out of the bag and handed it to Tony.

Tony took the bagel and turned it around in his hand. “Ah yes. My good friend,” he said, gently patting the bagel.

Steve snorted into his hand. “Is that why you bought the pillow?”

“Sort of,” Tony sighed, taking a bite. It was still warm, despite having been out in the cold for so long. He chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to make it up to you somehow. Ask Pepper – I’m shit with giving gifts. It was either the pillow, or a bagel factory. I think I made the right call this time.”

“It was a great gift,” Steve said, tearing his bagel in half. He took a bite and stared up at the stars. “I bet I really liked it – when I was a kid, I mean,”

“You did,” Tony chuckled. He squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “You used to carry it around all the time.”

“I watched the tower footage,” Steve said, softly. “I know that part,”

Tony smiled. “You were a sweet kid, Steve.”

“I wasn’t half as sweet as you, though.” Steve turned and planted a kiss on Tony’s lips; he slid back into place, snuggling under Tony’s arm and let out a low, contented sigh.

“Just for clarification purposes,” Tony said, licking his dry lips, “Are we dating?”

Steve smiled. “I’d like to be,”

“Ok,” Tony said. He pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead and leaned back into the deck chair. “I think you’re going to have to wait for the actual date part – unless you’re willing to drag me and my wheelchair around town,”

“I can wait,” Steve chuckled. “Besides – we’ve got a vacation to plan, too.”

“Ah, yes,” Tony said, clearing his throat. Great. He had almost put that out of mind and now it was back. Despite the initial wave of fear that coursed through him, there was excitement tagging along too. He really _did_ want to go back to the Beach Houses. Mabel was there and Mrs. Jia would be around; he wouldn’t mind seeing them. It would be nice to go there without a reason – to just turn up and enjoy the place. He hadn’t ever really taken a vacation – not one with someone he cared about. Pepper and Rhodey had always been too busy to just go off on an adventure, and no one else had stuck around long enough for him to want to draw up plans. This could be a good thing. No. It _would_ be a good thing. He would do his best to make it good for the both of them.

“Tony?” Steve turned and looked up at Tony. He smiled thoughtfully. “We don’t need to go back there. We can find somewhere else to go. We’ve got all the time in the world, remember? And we’re not going to need an escort this time,”

Tony snuggled closer to Steve, basking in his warmth. “I will take you _anywhere_ you want to go, Steve. If you want to go to the moon, I’ll make it happen.”

“I’ll go with _you_ anywhere,” Steve said, softly.

Tony closed his eyes. “I have one place I want to take you,”

“Oh?”

“Want to be my plus one at Pepper’s wedding?” Tony asked, grinning.

“It would be my honor to accompany you to Pepper’s wedding,” Steve said. He let his bagel fall back into the bag and pressed his lips to Tony’s, kissing him soundly.

Tony grinned and kissed him back.

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the Epilogue! I'll be turning this into a series - so there will be a few more fics later on! (Pepper's wedding is going to get a fic to itself!)

The Beach House gave them a fresh start for a whole lot of reasons. Life was a lot calmer here – a lot less hectic. Well, it was less hectic when you weren’t feed the birds and frankly he was still kicking himself over that one, because he _really_ should have known better than to bring a bag of bagels for _seagulls_ on the beach – especially not for ones of _this_ size. The first one that swooped down at him was the size of a bloody pot-roast. Within ten minutes, four of the massive birds had made off with the bag and he had been left clutching the last bagel to his chest while fending off the swarm of ravenous pigeons that were pecking at the crumbs scattered around their feet.

Steve, the bastard, thought it was all _hilarious_. He huddled beside Tony, clutching a loaf of bread, trying to keep it from getting swiped. He couldn’t stop laughing, even when one of the birds pooped on his shoes.

Their trip to the Beach house the night before had been a long one; the drive in had taken longer than expected, and by the time they had made it, night had already fallen. Tony’s Beach House was the furthest away from the water, and while it was near the road and therefore more accessible by car, it was nowhere near Steve’s Beach House. That had meant a longer trek for Steve to get to _his_ Beach House, and so they had parted ways that night feeling both tired and anxious. They weren’t fighting – oh no. They had talked about Steve spending the night in his Beach House so he could get a feel for the place a solid two months ago; Tony had had plenty of time to prepare for it. Still, it had irked Tony – a little – that Steve had wanted to stay by himself, but he hadn’t pushed. Pushing would have meant following Steve out into the dark, and even four months after his leg and arm had healed, he still wasn’t comfortable walking straight towards the water in the dark – at least not unless he absolutely had to.

Exhausted and irritated, Tony tossed his bagel across the yard and rolled his eyes as the birds followed it; they descended like a swarm of locusts, and soon, every last sesame seed was gone. He sighed aloud and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will his headache away. It didn’t work, but it did attract Steve’s attention.

“Are you alright?” Steve chucked his loaf of bread out to the birds and wrapped an arm around Tony’s middle. He rested his head against Tony’s chest and guided him up the porch steps.

“I’m fine,” Tony grumbled, sinking gratefully into the porch swing. He hadn’t intended to put one here at his Beach House, but after Bucky had pointed out that it was one of Steve’s favourite things, he had snuck it into the plans. He was glad he had done it, because seeing Steve happy made him feel a thousand times better – even with the headache.

Steve smiled softly and sprawled out on top of Tony, resting his chin on Tony’s shoulder. He shifted, slotting a leg between Tony’s and let out a long, satisfied sigh. “It’s beautiful here,”

“Yeah,” Tony grunted, closing his eyes. “It sure is.”

“I wish you’d been with me last night,” Steve murmured.

“Sorry,” Tony said.

“Don’t be,” Steve said. He lifted himself up and gave Tony a kiss. “I just wanted to get a feel for the place. I know it’s not your favourite spot. I wanted to see what it was like,”

“Right,”

“I’m sleeping here with you from now on, by the way,” Steve said. He lowered himself down again, snuggling closer. “It’s too quiet over there.”

“It’s quiet _everywhere_ out here,” Tony chuckled, yawning into his arm. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before; he had watched the beach and Steve’s house through the security feeds almost continuously. Nothing had happened, of course. He hadn’t expected anything to happen, considering the Red Skull was locked up and Hydra disbanded for the most part, yet he had still felt compelled to watch the video feeds.

“You look tired,” Steve murmured.

“I could use a nap,” Tony said with a shrug. He was grateful that Steve had decided to cut his alone-time short. At the Tower, they spent practically every minute together, and it was odd to be alone again; he hadn’t known just how lonely it was.

They weren’t _alone_ at the beach, of course; that would have made things too easy.

SHIELD had provided an escort for their trip despite their request to be left in peace, and thankfully, the agents tailing them were ones they knew. Clint and Coulson were here on _vacation_ ; they weren’t on active duty, or so they claimed. Unfortunately for SHIELD, Jarvis was a better spy than them when it came to peeking into surveillance systems – and before their first night of vacation had ended, Tony had found out that not only was Coulson tapping into the SI security system, he spent a few minutes of every hour checking up on them. Tony didn’t really mind that part, even if it had been a bit irritating to think that Coulson was watching him in his bedroom; he just wished the bastards had come out and said something first.

“Tony?” Steve murmured, drawing Tony’s attention.

“Yep?” Tony drawled, trying to muster up some of his famous charm. He realized rather quickly that it was going to be damn near impossible. He had already sweated through the armpits of his shirt and that made it hard to look even _minutely_ suave.

“Tony? Why is there a cat staring at me?” Steve asked.

Tony opened his eyes in time to get a face-full of plump cat belly.

Mabel had gained weight since the last time Tony had seen her. She purred loudly, circling around Tony’s head and then parked her furry behind on Steve’s forehead. Steve’s laugh didn’t even disturb her. She continued to sniff at Tony’s chin, her wet nose smearing across his skin. Satisfied with what she had smelled, she proceeded to rub herself all over Tony’s beard.

“Thank you, cat,” Tony grumbled, ruffling the fur under her chin.

Mabel purred even louder and settled down. She cuddled up to Tony’s ear and gave it a gentle nip.

“Mabel,” Tony said, stroking the cat’s soft fur, “This is Steve.”

Steve chuckled.

“Steve,” Tony said, gesturing to Mabel’s furry behind, “this is Mabel – well, that’s the rear end of Mabel, but I think you get the point.”

“Nice to meet you Mabel,” Steve said. He reached up tentatively to let the cat sniff his fingers.

At first Mabel didn’t seem to know what to do with him. She looked at Steve’s hand with an expression that Tony assumed was utter contempt, but after a few seconds she turned towards Steve – not moving her entire body, just her head – and started sniffing at him. After a thorough examination, she let out a sneeze and began to clean her teeth on Steve’s knuckles.

Steve smiled.

“I think she recognizes you,” Tony said. He watched in amusement as Mabel scent-marked Steve’s cheeks and thumb. The cat had loved Steve when he was a kid; she had been very attached to the little guy and Tony had wondered just how much of him she would recognize. It was nice to see that Mabel wasn’t particularly startled by Steve’s sudden change in age or size. To her, they were probably still her big, goofy, kittens, he mused.

Steve ran his hand down Mabel’s back. “So this is the cat, huh?”

“This is indeed the cat,” Tony chuckled.

“She’s heavy,” Steve said, shifting a little so the brunt of her weight wasn’t centred on his forehead.

Mabel turned around and whacked Steve in the face with her tail before settling down again.

“I take it she doesn’t like to be disturbed,” Steve murmured through Mabel’s tail.

“Yeah, she’s a little picky about how she gets her cuddles. It’s nice to see her with some meat on her bones, though,” Tony said, carding his fingers gently through her fur. “She’s a sweetie pie – but she’ll bite your fingers if you piss her off.”

Steve snorted. “Good to know,” he said. He let out a long sigh and pressed a kiss to Tony’s cheek, mindful of the cat on his head. “So, I was thinking about doing something special for dinner,”

“Oh?” Tony turned, peering at Steve around Mabel. “What did you want to do?”

“Well, we’ve got a kitchen full of groceries,” Steve said, lifting himself up onto his elbows. Mabel perched with her rear end still sitting on Steve’s head. He snickered and peered between her two front legs. “I was thinking we could cook up some steak and maybe spend the night in,”

“That sounds doable,” Tony murmured. He lifted Mabel’s tail so it wouldn’t curl its way into Steve’s left nostril and gave her a pat. “I’m pretty sure we can whip up some dinner for our furry friend too,”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Steve chuckled. “I’d rather not wake up and find her gnawing on my toes in the middle of the night,”

Tony smirked. “Damn right. I’m the only one who gets to do that,”

Steve’s face went bright red. He buried his face in Tony’s neck.

 

 

Dinner went well. Tony wasn’t the greatest cook, but he had done enough of it with Steve in the past few months that it wasn’t much of a problem. They ate just as the sun went down, sitting side by side on the couch, sipping cold beer between mouthfuls of perfectly seasoned steak.

Steve gathered up their plates when they were done and dumped everything into the sink.

Tony cocked an eyebrow. Steve _always_ did the dishes – he had never been able to leave them be once they were dirty. Tony opened his mouth to ask what was going on and found himself with a lapful of Steve.

Despite dating for four months, Steve hadn’t ever sat with Tony like this before. Steve always seemed reluctant to be this close, even though they often slept curled up together; Tony liked the change.

Steve smiled, draping his arms around Tony’s shoulders. “So,” he murmured.

Tony squinted at Steve, glancing at the bottles of beer still sitting on the coffee table. He worried for a moment that Steve was more than a little drunk, but even from a distance he could tell that Steve hadn’t even managed to finish more than half of his beer; even if he _was_ small, Tony doubted Steve could get drunk off _that_. Still, he hesitated and instead of moving, let his hands settle onto Steve’s hips.

Steve’s smile cracked. He swallowed hard and shifted his weight, moving as if to slide off of Tony’s lap.

“Something wrong?” Tony asked, stroking his thumb over Steve’s lower back.

Steve let out a low sigh and settled against Tony so they were chest to chest. “I was thinking of uh,” he murmured, licking his dry lips. “I was thinking we could try tonight,”

Tony smiled and kissed the tip of Steve’s nose. “We don’t need to rush. If you’re not feeling ready, we don’t need to do anything,”

“I am,” Steve said, looking relieved. He leaned closer and gave Tony a kiss. “I really,” he said, between quick kisses, “really, really, want to do this,”

“I see,” Tony said. He slid his hand a little, letting his palm slide under the hem of Steve’s shirt.

“Tony,” Steve murmured, giving Tony another kiss.

“Yeah?” Tony purred. He trailed his fingers over Steve’s bare back. “What do you want me to do?”

“Well,” Steve said, leaning forwards to kiss Tony again. “I was thinking we could go fool around in our bedroom,”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Tony said. He lifted Steve up, ready to stand and froze in place when Mabel dragged herself bodily up the arm of the couch and stepped daintily onto his thighs. She sat down, stretching out behind Steve and yawned, curling up into a ball.

Tony lowered himself back onto the couch and let out a laugh; he buried his face in the crook of Steve’s neck.

“It looks like we’re not going to be doing anything,” Steve grumbled, sagging against Tony’s chest.

Tony smiled. “There’s no rush,” he said, stroking Steve’s back. He chuckled when Mabel lifted her head and rubbed her ears on his thumb.

 

 

Tony woke in the middle of the night to Steve squirming above him. At first, he thought it was an exceptionally filthy dream; Steve sometimes had nightmares, and when they struck, he often tried to get away from Tony so he didn’t wake him. This time, however, Steve wasn’t having a nightmare and he definitely wasn’t trying to roll away.

Steve ran his hands over Tony’s chest; the brush of his fingertips over Tony’s nipples made Tony shudder in pleasure. “Are you awake?” Steve whispered into Tony’s ear.

“I am now,” Tony whispered back. He slid his hands under the blanket and let them rest on the small of Steve’s back. He slid his hands lower and cupped Steve’s ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Steve moaned softly. “That feels really nice,”

“Oh yeah?” Tony pressed his lips to Steve’s, keeping the kiss gentle. He had been thinking about this for a long time, and while he wanted to flip Steve over and ravish him, he didn’t want to do anything he knew would make Steve uncomfortable. He was pretty sure he was doing alright right now, considering the way Steve’s hand had slipped between his legs.

“Tony?” Steve rasped as he kissed a line down Tony’s throat.

“Yes dear?” Tony grunted, digging his fingers gently into the meat of Steve’s ass.

“Can we?” Steve said, tugging at Tony’s shirt.

“God yes,” Tony said. He sat up and let Steve push his shirt up and over his head, pausing only to give Steve another kiss. “Are you sure you’re ok with this?”

“I couldn’t be more ok,” Steve said, tangling his fingers in Tony’s hair. He pulled away so he could stare smugly down at Tony; he ran his hand down Tony’s chest, pausing to trace his way around Tony’s left nipple.

Tony shivered. “You’re _evil_ ,”

“I know,” Steve murmured. He lifted his arms and started shucking his own shirt. His cheeks were faintly pink in the low light; he grinned from ear to ear. “Let’s get those pants off,”

Neither of them saw Mabel coming. She hit Steve in the back with a meow and sent him face first into Tony’s chest.

Tony’s let out a strangled squawk.

Steve glared at Tony from under the cat and huffed out a sigh.

“Alright,” Tony wheezed. “I’ll take care of it. That’s enough of that.” He reached out, ready to scoop Mabel up.

Mabel did a circle on Steve’s back and plopped herself down, settling with a loud, satisfied, snort between his shoulder blades. She blinked lazily at Tony when he wiggled his fingers and prepared to lift her and extended her claws, digging them into Steve’s t-shirt. Not wanting to get Steve clawed up, Tony gave her a gentle pat on the head and dropped his hands back onto Steve’s hips.

“I think your cat hates me,” Steve grumbled.

“I’m starting to think she hates _me_ ,” Tony chuckled. He planted a kiss on Steve’s forehead. “What do you want to do now?”

Steve sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted, letting his cheek rest against Tony’s chest, just above the arc reactor. He seemed to have lost the smirk he had been so proudly wearing and looked a little lost. “I guess we can try again in the morning – if you want,”

Tony smiled. “I would love to,” he said. He stroked Steve’s hair, brushing it out of his face. “Don’t worry about it. Worse comes to worse, we can always lock her out of the bedroom so she can’t stick her furry ass in either of our faces.”

Steve chuckled and tucked the blankets around them. “That sounds like a good plan,”

 

 

Tony woke to find Steve’s hand between his legs again. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t usual; Steve had a tendency to roll around in his sleep, and some nights Tony had woken to find Steve’s bare foot in his face. This was different. For one, Steve’s hand was cupping Tony’s balls in a way that said both ‘hello, I am awake’ and ‘I would like to have sex now’. Tony let out a throaty groan, lifting his hips so he could press himself closer to Steve’s warm hand.

“ _Morning_ ,” Steve drawled into Tony’s ear.

Tony groaned again, squirming under Steve’s touch. He hadn’t forgotten what it was like to be touched like this, but for some reason everything seemed far more intense tonight. Maybe it was because it was Steve doing the touching; he always had wondered what it would be like to be touched by Steve, and it had _definitely_ been worth the wait.

“Good morning to you too,” Tony grunted. He hoped to god he wasn’t going to make a mess of himself before they even really started. His cock was so hard it felt like it had turned to stone.

“Sleep well?” Steve asked, slowly stroking Tony through his sleep pants.

Tony whimpered.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Steve murmured. He nibbled gently at Tony’s earlobe and slid his hand up over the waistband, letting his palm rest on Tony’s belly.

“Are you sure you’re ok with this?” Tony rasped. He had to ask; he couldn’t stand the thought of this being something Steve thought he _needed_ to do instead of something he wanted to do.

Steve’s hand stilled. “Are you – are _you_ not ok with this?” he asked. He lifted his head so he could look Tony in the eye.

“I’m _very_ ok with this,” Tony said, stroking Steve’s cheek. “I just want to be sure this is what you want,”

“Of course it is,” Steve said. His eyes went wide; his cheeks and the tips of his ears were bright red. “Why _wouldn’t_ I want this? Did I do something wrong?”

“Steve,” Tony said, softly, “a few months ago you said you weren’t interested in ever having sex in this body.”

“I know,” Steve muttered. He slid his hand over Tony’s chest, letting it settle against the waistband of Tony’s pants. He gave it a friendly snap. “Come on,” he said. “I’ve been waiting to get a look at you,”

“Hold on,” Tony said, giving Steve a gentle kiss on the lips. “Honey, we don’t have to do this until you’re absolutely comfortable. And if that doesn’t happen for three more years, then it doesn’t happen,”

“I don’t want to wait,” Steve said. He sat up, straddling Tony’s waist. “I’m not rushing – I know what I want.” He shucked his shirt and leaned forwards, trailing his fingers down Tony’s chest. “Where do you want to start?”

Tony grinned and reached up, cupping Steve’s face. “Well, as much as I like your hand where it is, I wouldn’t mind a few more kisses.”

Steve grinned. “I think I can do that,” he said, leaning down.

They kissed for so long, Tony was a little dizzy when he finally came up for air; Steve grinned down at him, looking just as out of it.

Steve rolled his hips slowly, grinding down against Tony.

Tony let out a strangled moan. “ _Fuck_ me, that feels good,”

“I know,” Steve said, biting Tony on the chin.

Tony chuckled, tangling his fingers in the fabric of Steve’s sleep pants. He gave them a gentle tug, sliding them down Steve’s hips until they simply hung there, against Steve’s thighs. “So,” he said, slipping his hands down. He gave Steve’s ass a rough squeeze.

“Do that again,” Steve groaned, burying his face in Tony’s throat.

Tony grinned and gave Steve another squeeze. “You like that?” He gave Steve a rougher squeeze, letting his fingers slip lower, brushing the crease where Steve’s cheeks met.

Steve’s breathy moan was enough to get Tony moving. He pulled Steve’s pants down the rest of the way, and was pleased to find that Steve had neglected to wear underwear the night before; he had wondered why Steve had spent so much time in the bathroom, and it seemed that there was an actual reason. Steve grinned at Tony, giving himself a happy little wiggle so Tony had a better view. He had shaved, and while there was normally little to no body hair on him, there was absolutely _nothing_ to be seen now.

Tony smirked. “Oh, I see how it is,” he drawled.

“Yeah?” Steve murmured. He went up on his knees, hovering precariously as he went to work at peeling Tony out of his sleep pants.

They grinned at each other.

Tony pulled Steve down and kissed him until they were breathless again; he rolled them over, pinning Steve beneath him, and kissed him soundly.

“Is this ok?” Tony asked, giving his hips a lazy roll against Steve’s.

Steve let out a gasp and wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist, pulling him down. “I love it,”

The moment Tony reached for Steve’s cock, Mabel hurled herself up onto the bed, hitting Tony in the shoulder; only this time there was no fabric to soften the blow. Her razor sharp claws dug into the meat of Tony’s back as she struggled to keep from being thrown off of the bed. She let out a mournful meow and continued to flail away, trying to get a better grip on Tony’s non-existent shirt.

Tony shrieked and clutched at his bleeding back.

Steve scrambled out from under Tony. “Oh _shit_ , are you alright?” he said. He helped Mabel down so her back feet would stop _kicking_ at Tony’s back in terror. He cradled the cat against him, trying to calm her.

Tony fell forwards and lay flat on his belly, whimpering in agony. “Holy _hell_ ,” he hissed as air rushed past his back. He didn’t know how many claw marks were really there, but it felt like there were _thousands_.

Steve set Mabel down on the floor and ran for the bathroom. He returned with a washcloth and first aid kid in hand. He had a worried look on his face, and gnawed at his lower lip.

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Is it _that_ bad?”

“Well, it’s not good,” Steve sighed.

Mabel let out a sorrowful meow and climbed back up onto the bed. She huddled against Tony’s shoulder and licked worriedly at his neck. She sat down, curling around his head; her tail thumped him in the nose.

Steve daubed gingerly at Tony’s back.

Tony hissed and tried to flinch away. He had been scratched by things before, most notably by girlfriends who had gotten a wee bit too frisky while they were having sex, but he had never been torn up by real claws before and it _hurt_. His eyes watered. He glared at what little he could see of Mabel even though he knew it was pointless getting angry with her. “You’re an asshole, cat,” he grumbled.

Mabel meowed and snuggled closer, seeming to understand that _something_ was wrong even if she didn’t seem to realize what it was exactly.

“How many scratches do I have?” Tony asked, grumpily. He forced himself to remain still as Steve wiped at the claw marks, biting down on his lower lip to keep from swearing up a storm. “Am I going to need plastic surgery? Will I be pretty again?”

“You’ll be just fine,” Steve chuckled, giving Tony’s hip a gentle pat. “I’m counting ten different scratches. Some of them aren’t too bad, but a few of them are pretty deep,”

“Are they deep enough to need stitches?” Tony asked, warily. He loathed getting stitches, but it was better to know in advance than to find out when he as he was being stuffed into a car so he could be ferried off to the hospital.

“They’re not _that_ deep,” Steve chuckled. He took Tony’s hand in his and squeezed it. “It’s just going to take a while to heal up, that’s all.”

“ _Great_ ,” Tony grunted. He returned to glaring at Mabel’s tail. “I hate to say it, but I don’t think I’m in the mood anymore,”

Steve sighed and patted Tony’s hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. He leaned forwards and kissed Tony on the back of his neck, mindful of the scratches. “We can try again later. We’ve got a whole week before we have to head out to Pepper’s wedding, remember?”

“Right,” Tony nodded. “Wedding – right.”

“You didn’t forget,” Steve chuckled, stroking the short hairs on the back of Tony’s neck. “I know you sent that thank you card to Doom,”

“It seemed rude not to send one back,” Tony murmured. “I mean, I know it wasn’t for _my_ wedding, but I couldn’t ignore him – not after Pepper sent him all those flowers. I’m an ass, but I know better than to poke fun at Doom after he went through all that trouble. Those were some fancy ribbons. I wonder if he stayed up all night making sure they were perfect,”

Steve smiled fondly. “I don’t think I’m ever going to forget those pictures. The Skull’s ugly as hell, but the sight of him sitting there with that little bow on his head made him almost look _cute_ ,”

Tony snorted. “I think Fury thought so too,”

“Oh?” Steve daubed at Tony’s back again, scowling at the streaks of blood.

“He wanted Hydra to know where to look if they ever broke into SHIELD’s system. All the Skull’s files are in a folder labeled ‘the Cutest Present Ever’,” Tony chuckled.

“I take it you’ve been spying on SHIELD again,” Steve said, clucking his tongue at an especially deep cut.

“Actually, no,” Tony grunted. “Coulson showed it to me. He wanted to make sure he got one of Pepper’s favourite pictures for the cover,”

“She’s a good photographer,” Steve agreed. He sighed and picked up a chunk of clean white gauze; he pressed it to Tony’s back, holding it in place over the first set of scratch marks. “I can’t believe she never went through with art school,”

“She likes art,” Tony murmured, “but she’s always said she doesn’t think she’s good enough to get in, which is complete bullshit, but she never listens to me. She should. I’m a genius,”

“She likes the job she has now,” Steve said, patting Tony’s shoulder again. He lifted the piece of gauze up and inspected it. His lower body was warm against Tony’s thighs; if Tony hadn’t been in so much pain, he might have tried to make a move on Steve again just so he could feel Steve move against him.

“Pepper’s trying to talk me into taking some courses while I’ve got the time,” Steve said. His tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth. “I’m thinking about it.”

Tony bit his lower lip as Steve moved the gauze again. Steve’s ‘free time’ had been weighing on him pretty heavily, and despite Tony trying to keep him company whenever possible, he often spent far too much time alone in his room in the tower. Pepper’s suggestions had gone largely ignored – up until now, it seemed. The trip out here had been Tony’s way of getting Steve get away from the stress of rebuilding his life. He hadn’t wanted to come out here so soon, but he didn’t regret his decision; this was for Steve, and he would do anything to keep Steve happy, sane and safe. Besides, it really was beautiful here – even if he couldn’t walk down to the actual beach without breaking out into a cold sweat. He was getting better at controlling the fear too. The shakes weren’t so obvious anymore, and while it took a whole lot of concentration to keep him from bolting from the water’s edge, he could stand beside it now without getting the intense flashbacks. Steve didn’t know that part, though. Steve didn’t know that this wasn’t the first time Tony had been back here, either. Tony had dropped by on a test run, meeting up with Mrs. Jia one evening after the last of the Beach Houses had been finished up. They had walked around and explored the new place together. She hadn’t seen all of what had been done, considering a lot of it was interior work, but she had seen a great deal more of it than Tony had. It had been nice to look things over together. He was kind of disappointed she hadn’t been able to stick around for their planned visit, but that was life. Her son’s wife was in the hospital getting ready to give birth and you couldn’t just order someone to _not_ have a baby.

Still, even while in complete agony with cat scratches all over his back, he wasn’t disappointed with the way the trip was going. Steve was looking much less peaky and while he wasn’t completely dancing around in complete ecstasy, he was at least smiling a thousand times more than normal. And now he was even talking about taking classes at an art school! Tony’s eyes filled with tears of joy.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice turned soft. “Are you alright? You’re a little quiet,”

“I’m fine,” Tony said. He reached blindly behind him and found Steve’s leg; he stroked it. “What were you thinking of taking?”

“Oh, a little bit of this and that,” Steve said with a shrug. “I was thinking of doing some more design work – getting up to speed with all of the art programs they have on the computer these days.”

“Ah, so you want to play around with tablets and all that?” Tony asked.

“I guess so,” Steve said. “I looked at them, but I haven’t been able to pick anything out,”

“I made one for you – in the tower – if you want it,” Tony murmured.

“You did?” Steve pressed a kiss to the back of Tony’s neck again. “That’s – I don’t know what to say. Thank you,”

“Not a problem. So are you breaking the Band-Aids out, or what?” Tony said, clearing his throat.

Steve chuckled and reached for the first aid kit. “Sure,”

 

 

Steve’s smile was radiant after that night; Tony couldn’t stop grinning either.

Steve led Tony over to the kitchen table where lunch was already laid out; there was a spring in his step, and if Tony didn’t know any better, he would have suspected that Steve had actually gotten laid.

It had been two days since Mabel’s _unfortunate_ slide down Tony’s back, and while his wounds were healing, it felt like they were healing at a glacial pace. Tony had never really realized just how often his back actually moved at any given time, and every twitch or turn left him wincing. He had spent far too much of his mornings staggering from place to place with Mabel hanging off of his leg like a furry ball and chain. Apparently moving slow meant he needed an escort, and both Steve and Mabel were willing to be there for him.

Tony picked up a fork and gave Mabel a stern look. “You stay there. This is my lunch,”

Mabel sighed and flopped down beside his foot on the floor. Her tail lashed from side to side in agitation when he wouldn’t give her any of the food on his plate.

“Clint and Phil are stopping by for dinner,” Steve said, setting a can of cold soda down beside Tony’s hand.

Tony sighed. “Really?”

“Did you not want them to visit?” Steve asked, his brow furrowed. “I can tell them we’re busy if you want,”

“No, no,” Tony said, shaking his hand. “It’s fine. I just figured they’d be still in the honeymoon phase and all,”

“Ah,” Steve said. He smiled knowingly. “I get what you mean.”

“Just tell them they’re required to wear clothing, because I am not having any nudists in our house – aside from us,” Tony grunted. He tacked his salad first, knowing it would make Steve happy to see him eating his greens.

Steve snorted. “Oh, don’t worry. I already gave them the lecture. Seeing Clint’s bare ass once was more than enough for me,”

“Was he wandering around on the beach again?” Tony asked, finishing the last of his spinach.

Steve nodded. “He claimed he wanted to go for a swim,”

“But he forgot his trunks,” Tony chuckled.

“That’s what Coulson said. He came running out with a towel when he realized Clint was sauntering down the beach towards me,” Steve said. He took a bite of his salad, chewing through a chunk of walnut. “That’s why I invited them over for dinner. I figured I owed him one,”

“I’d say you’re right,” Tony said, giving Steve a crooked smile. “We owe him one, alright.”

“Bucky said he’s going to drop by tomorrow afternoon, by the way,” Steve said. He stared seriously at his plate, searching for another walnut to devour.

Tony gritted his teeth. Didn’t _anyone_ know what the word vacation meant these days? First Clint and Coulson and now Bucky – why couldn’t they just leave them in peace? At this rate, he was never going to get alone time with Steve. Instead of voicing his annoyance, he focused on his lunch and plastered a smile on his face. “Why is he choosing to bless us with his presence? Did he break his arm again?”

Steve smiled softly. “I don’t know. He didn’t really say,”

“I guess we’re going to have the make the best of tonight and tomorrow, huh?” Tony drawled, moving his fork from the remains of his salad to the chicken breast. He didn’t know what Steve had seasoned it with, but tasted amazing as usual.

“I guess so,” Steve said, his smile growing larger.

 

 

Tony helped Steve light the barbeque and then made himself at home on the porch swing. His back stung a little with every move he made and he was glad to sink back into the pillows. He knew better than to help Steve with the barbeque; the last time they had tried back in the Tower’s penthouse, he had managed to light his apron on fire and lost half an eyebrow. He had been banned from going near one ever since. That didn’t particularly bother him; he never had liked the look of raw meat cooking. He sighed in contentment and closed his eyes. Time to take a nap.

“I see you’re being helpful as usual,” Coulson said, dryly.

Tony opened one eye. “I don’t barbeque,” he said, flatly. “Steve and I had the talk. We agreed it would be better for mankind if I stayed out of the way. Flamethrowers are for missions, not dinner,”

“Steve’s words, I’m assuming,” Coulson said. He found himself a seat on the padded bench beside the porch swing and leaned back, glancing at Steve and Clint as they fed meat onto the barbeque. “I’m sorry about the peep show earlier,”

“Hey,” Tony shrugged, “It was Clint’s bare ass, not yours.”

“For which I’m sure you’re eternally grateful,” Coulson chuckled.

“True, true,” Tony murmured.

“I hope we’re not ruining your vacation,” Coulson said.

“Why would you say that?” Tony asked. He sat up and adjusted the pillows underneath him, grimacing when his scabs stuck to his shirt. He had taken the Band-Aids off earlier in the day, and it was starting to look like that had been a bad decision.

“I thought you and Steve were going to be, uh,” Coulson coughed. He smiled nervously at Tony. “Well. You know how it is.”

“Right,” Tony said, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m assuming you’re talking about sexytime events,”

Coulson snorted and shook his head. “That’s one way to put it,”

“We tried,” Tony confessed. He was surprised he was saying it out loud – let alone to Coulson. “It didn’t happen,”

“He’s not ready?” Coulson asked, cocking his head to the side.

“The cat keeps getting in the way,” Tony muttered.

Coulson laughed so shrilly, Steve and Clint looked over at him. He waved to them and turned back to Tony, shaking his head. “You know, I always thought that cat was possessive,”

“I don’t know about her being possessive, but she’s sure got some sharp claws,” Tony muttered. He turned and lifted up his shirt, giving Coulson a look at his back.

Coulson whistled. “That’s got to hurt,”

Tony shrugged and grimaced when the movement pulled at his scabs. “It’s bad, but it’s not as bad as when I broke my leg,”

“I take it that’s why Steve’s letting you lounge around up here like a freeloader?” Coulson chuckled.

Tony slid his shirt back down and dropped gracelessly onto the porch swing. “I’m _eyecandy_ – get it right, Phil,”

“Sure,” Coulson snorted.

“Hey,” Tony said, pretending to be hurt. “I’m a fabulous piece of ass. You’d be lucky to get your hands on me,”

“Uh huh,” Coulson said. “I’m sure, but I think I’ll stick to my boyfriend, thank you very much.”

“So how _are_ you and Clint?” Tony asked. He burrowed into his pillows and let out a pleased groan. The porch swing was starting to look like the best investment he had ever made. He was pretty sure Steve was going to have to pry him out of it tonight. He was going to have to get one installed in the Tower – and possibly his workshop.

“We’re doing alright, I guess,” Coulson said. He glanced over at Clint again, his gaze flittering between the grill and Clint’s metal spatula. “I think we’ve smoothed things out for the most part,”

“I assumed that’s what the copious amounts of Clint-ass meant,”

“I figured you would get that part,”

“Are you two going to get married?”

Coulson scowled. “Stark,”

“That good a conversation, huh?” Tony chuckled.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Coulson sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair and smiled at Clint, waving him off when Clint frowned at him in concern. “He’s more than willing – and so am I – but it’s not the right time. Maybe we’ll think about it again in a few months. Besides – I don’t think it’s entirely safe to talk about it right now,”

“Oh?”

“I’m pretty sure Pepper will skin me alive if I so much as breathe the word wedding right now,”

“Probably,” Tony said. “Did she send you your tux yet?”

“My tux?” Coulson frowned.

“Ah, never mind,” Tony chuckled. “It’s probably just for me. I’m guessing I’m going to be dressed to the nines in seaweed green.”

“I thought she was kidding about that,” Coulson said, smirking.

“So did I,” Tony grumbled. “But Jarvis pinged me, so I have a feeling I’m not escaping her wrath so easily,”

“Well, who knows,” Coulson chuckled. “Maybe I’ve got my own fashion disaster waiting for me at home,”

“Highly unlikely,” Tony grunted, “But I like the way you think,”

They fell into an amiable silence; Coulson watched as Steve and Clint worked at frying up steaks and chicken while Tony napped. Mabel strolled out onto the porch and joined Tony on the porch swing, tucking herself under his arm. She hissed at Coulson when she realized he was there, but allowed him to pet her once she was sure he wasn’t a threat.

 

When dinner was finally finished, with no help from Tony or Coulson (although Coulson had retrieved plates from inside, so he had at least stood up once or twice) they gathered around the wrought-iron-and-glass table outside to eat. The food was delicious even though Clint had had a hand in everything. Mabel dined on a plate of mashed up hotdogs and eggs and then parked herself under Steve’s chair so she could lick the salt from his ankles.

Clint let out a loud belch and leaned back in his chair. “Now I know why Tony’s gotten fat,” he said, rubbing his swollen belly.

Tony scowled at Clint and chose to ignore the comment in favor of eating another hunk of steak.

“So, what are your plans for the rest of the week?” Coulson asked. He pushed Clint’s hand off of his thigh, more interested in the conversation than the flirting. “I heard Bucky’s going to drop by,”

“Yeah,” Steve said, quirking a smile. “He was supposed to stop by after the wedding, but I think things got a little too crazy for him in the Tower and he needed to take a break.”

“Sure,” Clint said, glancing over at Tony. “I’m sure _that’s_ it.”

Coulson cleared his throat loudly and elbowed Clint in the side. He turned to Steve and smiled. “How about I help you get started with the dishes so we can go for a walk on the beach before it gets dark?”

Steve smiled gratefully. “That sounds like a great idea,” he said. He stood up and collected half of the plates while Coulson collected the rest; they headed inside together.

Tony turned slowly to Clint. “Ok,” he said. “Spill.”

Clint scowled. “You know he’s kind of in love with you, right?”

“Who? Steve? I don’t think he’s in love, but he’s pretty happy,” Tony said.

“Not Steve,” Clint grumbled. He pinched the bridge of his nose and glared wearily at Tony. “You really don’t know?”

“Barton, I swear to god,” Tony snapped. “Spit it out already,”

“Barnes has a massive crush on you,”

Tony stared at Clint, dumbfounded. His mind felt like it was suddenly working at ten percent capacity. How was it possible that Bucky liked _him_? They weren’t even that close – or at least, he had never though they were that close. Sure, they were friends, but it wasn’t like he had gone out of his way to seek Bucky out. It had always been Bucky seeking him out.

Nope. That couldn’t be true.

Tony frowned. “That’s impossible,”

Clint let out a groan and shook his head. “Jesus, Stark. How can you live with your head that far up your ass?” he grumbled, slapping the table. A piece of stray lettuce bounced. “Barnes has been moping around the fucking Tower all week, but he’s not doing it because he’s freaked out by the future or whatever bullshit Phil keeps spewing.”

“You’re wrong,” Tony muttered.

“Fine. Whatever, man,” Clint sighed. “Be stubborn and don’t believe me,”

“Bucky’s coming over tomorrow night,” Tony said. “Why the _fuck_ would he do that if he had a thing for me? He knows I love Steve – that’s not going to change even if he hangs around with us forever,”

“I don’t think he’s going to try and get in the way, if that’s what you mean,” Clint conceded, shaking his head. “Look, I’m just warning you, alright? I don’t think he’s going to put the moves on you – I just want you to be aware of what you’re doing,”

“What _I’m_ doing?” Tony’s scowl deepened. “You think I’m going to fuck him up somehow?”

“I think he’s going to get real low real fast when he sees the two of you prancing around holding hands,” Clint grunted. “It’s bad for team moral,”

“Clint,” Phil growled from the stairs. He picked up a forgotten plate and turned, glancing up the stairs towards the open door. Satisfied with what he saw, he turned to Clint. “I thought we agreed not to say anything,”

“ _You_ agreed,” Clint shrugged.

Coulson scowled.

Tony slumped in his chair. “What the hell am I supposed to do now? He’s going to be here _tomorrow night_ ,”

“Act natural,” Coulson said. He locked eyes with Tony. “You don’t think of him that way, do you?”

“God no,” Tony said, wrinkling his nose. He could see how Bucky had a certain kind of appeal. The guy had nice hair – when it wasn’t greasy and he had an _alright_ -looking face – one that might even be kissable. If Tony was being honest, he could see himself hitting on the guy if he had been available. But he wasn’t available and Bucky wasn’t Steve; he never would be. Tony sighed aloud. This was going to be a fucking disaster.

“If you want my advice, just act like you always do,” Coulson said.

“And don’t grab his ass,” Clint said.

Coulson flicked Clint in the ear. “Thank you. That was very helpful.”

Clint winced. “Hey, it’s the truth. The last thing you want to do is grab the guy’s ass and lead him on,”

“Must you be so crude?” Coulson grumbled, stalking up the stairs and into the house.

“I was just being _honest_ ,” Clint muttered.

Tony sighed. “I sort of wish you hadn’t told me about any of this,”

“Oh well,” Clint snorted. “Too late now.” He nodded to the house. “So do you think you’re going to be able to walk on the beach without freaking out?”

Tony shrugged; he could feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck, and it wasn’t just from the thought of walking on the beach. “I guess we’ll find out,”

 

 

The beach wasn’t so bad, actually – once he started to focus on everything other than the water. Sadly, he couldn’t participate much. The conversation Clint, Coulson and Steve were having seemed like it was filled with static; every time Tony took a step, all he heard was the sound of the sand under his feet. The waves crashing against the shore were deafening, and he did his best to ignore them. He plastered a smile on his face and nodded along in all the right places, taking long chugs of his beer as they walked. He was good at pretending to be part of a conversation; he had done it for years during Galas, after all.

Steve looped his arm through Tony’s and lead them back home when they were finished their walk; Clint and Coulson headed back to their own Beach House.

“So,” Steve said, towing Tony towards the front steps. “Why didn’t you say you weren’t comfortable?”

Tony shrugged. “You wanted to walk on the beach,”

Steve leaned against Tony, tangling their fingers. “I don’t ever want you to grit your teeth and go through with something that makes you uncomfortable. You said that to me and I’m saying it back to you – if you don’t feel like you want to do something, we aren’t doing it,”

“I know, I know,” Tony sighed. He squeezed Steve’s hand. “I just… I didn’t want to let you down,”

Steve’s smile softened. “You didn’t,” he said, going up on the tips of his toes. He kissed Tony on the cheek. “Are you feeling better now that we’re away from the water?”

“I’m a little tired, that’s all,” Tony said, leading them up the steps.

“Alright,” Steve said. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the front door. “What do you want to do now?” He smirked up at Tony, slipping a hand into Tony’s pocket.

Tony wished more than anything that he was in the mood; he wasn’t. He sighed and looped an arm around Steve’s shoulder. “Let’s go to sleep,”

“Oh,” Steve said. He slumped a little, his smile turning sad. “Alright.”

“We can wake up early,” Tony said, stroking Steve’s hair. “There’s plenty of time before Bucky gets here,”

Steve perked up. “You’re right. There’s no rush,” he said. “Let’s go to sleep.”

 

 

Tony woke to the sound of someone knocking on the front door. Groaning, he picked up his tablet and checked the security footage as Steve tried to worm his way underneath the pillows. Bucky glared up into the security camera and knocked louder.

“ _Asshole_ ,” Tony grunted, setting his tablet on the dresser. Why the hell was Bucky here _this_ early? They were supposed to have the morning to themselves! He wondered if he could get away with leaving the bastard there on the porch.

“Who is it?” Steve asked, his voice muffled by the pillows.

“It’s Bucky,” Tony grunted, sitting up. He tugged his shirt back down, wincing when it rubbed against the scratches on his back and stood up. “I’ll get it,”

“He’s not supposed to be here until tonight,” Steve grumbled, struggling out from under the blankets.

“Do me a favor,” Tony said, looking around for his sleep pants, “smack him for me when you find the time,”

“Sure,” Steve said. He found Tony’s sleep pants tangled in the blankets and tossed them to him.

“Thanks,” Tony grunted. He pulled on his pants and staggered out into the living room, muttering under his breath. He didn’t have to see Bucky’s face to know that the guy was pissed off; the knocks were getting more incessant and louder by the second. Sighing in exasperation, Tony unlocked the front door and threw it open.

“Hello, Bucky,” Tony grunted.

Bucky pushed his way inside; he had a duffle bag in hand and a scowl on his face.

“What are you doing here so goddamned early?” Tony asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Your fucking wedding-crazed CEO chased me out of the building because she said she didn’t want to risk me destroying anything by accident,” Bucky muttered sullenly. He threw his shoes towards the door, stepped around the coffee table and made himself comfortable on the couch. He kicked his feet up. “I had to sneak out last night because she kept threatening to have me hung from the penthouse by my ankles,”

“What did you do?” Tony grumbled. He knew Pepper far too well to think she had chased Bucky out without a good reason.

“It was _one_ bottle of champagne!” Bucky snapped. “How the fuck was I supposed to know the damn thing would break so easily,”

“How the hell did you even _find_ the champagne? I had it crated up and hidden for a reason,” Tony scowled, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on and wanted nothing more than to curl up back in bed with Steve, but it was clear that there would be no extra morning cuddles; that was over.

Steve stepped into the room and grinned. He gave Bucky a quick hug before heading into the kitchen clearly planning to make them all breakfast. He pulled out a pan and turned to the fridge. “Are eggs and bacon alright with you two?”

“Sounds good to me,” Bucky grunted.

“Do you need any help?” Tony asked.

Steve chuckled. “No, that’s ok.”

“Are you sure?” Tony asked, pursing his lips. He would take getting splattered with grease any day if it meant getting to spent more time with Steve.

“I’m sure,” Steve said. “Go ahead and catch up, you two,”

Tony yawned and collapsed onto the couch, taking over the side that was the furthest away from Bucky; he didn’t want to inadvertently touch him now that he knew Bucky might actually read something into it. Thankfully, Bucky didn’t seem to notice the extra distance between them; he was too busy draping himself over the side of the couch like he was made entirely out of jelly.

Bucky closed his eyes, and let out a long, satisfied moan.

Tony yawned again. “I take it you enjoyed the drive in?”

“I _hate_ driving,” Bucky grunted. His bangs fell in front of his face; he didn’t bother pushing them out of the way. “I hate your loaner car,”

“It’s not a bad car,” Tony said.

“It’s no Ferrari,” Bucky muttered.

“That’s because I love my Ferrari and you have a tendency to rip the steering wheels out of the cars you drive,” Tony said. He yawned into his arm and sank into his side of the couch. “Besides, it would have been a little too conspicuous if you showed up driving Dave,”

“Right,” Bucky grunted.

“Did you _want_ to be chased by the Paparazzi?” Tony asked, curious. “Because they know the registration for Dave better than I do,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky muttered. He weakly flapped a hand at Tony. “Shut up and let me sleep. And stop naming your damn cars. I don’t care what you say. Dick is not an appropriate car name,”

“Fine,” Tony grumbled. “But you better not drool on my couch,”

“If you feel that strongly, you can come over here and stop me,” Bucky growled.

Tony stiffened. “No thanks,”

Bucky let out a yawn and snuggled closer to the armrest. “Good. So shut it, Stark,”

Tony stood up slowly once he was sure Bucky was solidly asleep. He slid into the kitchen and leaned against Steve, bumping their hips together.

Steve smiled at Tony and cracked another egg. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Tony said. He wrapped his arms around Steve and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry we didn’t get any more time alone,”

“Same here,” Steve said. He glanced over at Bucky. “Do you think he’s alright?”

“He’s fine,” Tony said. He hugged Steve a little closer and rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

 

 

Tony didn’t want to be alone with Bucky so soon, but it seemed fate had it in for him. Clint showed up at around eleven to drag Steve out for their afternoon jog-slash-crawl around the beach, and as Tony was still exhausted by their early morning, he opted to stay home. Unfortunately, Bucky opted to stay home too, and by the time Tony’s brain caught up with what Bucky had said, Steve and Clint were long gone.

Bucky sat down on the couch beside Tony once lunch was cleared away and kicked his feet up again, making himself at home. “So,” he drawled, draping his arm over the back of the couch. He turned and looked at Tony with a grin. “What do you do around here for fun?”

Tony didn’t know what to say, so he stood up and casually slipped out the front door, feigning deafness. Staggered by his own inability to string together words, he managed to turn himself around and threw himself into the porch swing. Damn it. Now he needed to go back inside and apologize. What the hell had he been thinking?

Bucky stepped cautiously out onto the porch and hovered near the doorway. “Are you alright?”

Tony arranged himself casually on his back on the porch swing and tucked a pillow under his arms, hugging it for protection. “I’m fine,”

“You don’t _seem_ fine,” Bucky said, frowning. “Did I do something?”

“No,” Tony sighed. “It’s not you.”

“Right,” Bucky said. He glanced around at the porch and slunk closer, moving slowly.

“You can lie down,” Tony said, making room on the porch swing.

Bucky sat down, keeping a good foot of space between them. He slowly dropped down onto his back, and kept his gaze on the ceiling with his arms crossed over his waist as the swing rocked side to side. “You know, don’t you,” he said after a minute of quiet contemplation.

“That depends on what you mean by _know_ ,” Tony muttered.

“Who told you?” Bucky murmured.

“Clint,”

“Figures,” Bucky sighed. “I guess I should get packed again,”

“What?” Tony frowned. “You don’t need to do that,”

“Do you really think Steve’s going to be happy about me being here after he finds out?” Bucky asked. He chuckled darkly. “I don’t know what he’s going to be more pissed about – the fact that I kept it from him, or the fact that I lied,”

“Who says he needs to find out?” Tony rolled over slightly. He squinted at Bucky. He didn’t like keeping things from Steve, but what was the alternative? Could they come out and tell Steve without it turning into a tragedy? Steve _loved_ Bucky – their friendship was more important to Steve than anything in the world. If they said something now, they might hurt Steve beyond repair. Besides – it didn’t have to be a _forever_ lie. Tony didn’t want to keep it from Steve, but that didn’t mean he had to mention it outright.

“Look,” Tony said, keep his voice firm, “You and I both know that this isn’t going to change anything between us. I love Steve,”

Bucky’s face went carefully blank. “Obviously,” he said.

“So why does he need to know?” Tony asked. “We both care about him. Should he have to live worrying that the two of us could run off together some day? You saw what happened last time – I don’t want to scare the shit out him for no goddamned reason,”

“Alright,” Bucky said. He nodded stiffly. “We won’t tell him,”

“I won’t lie to him, Bucky,” Tony said, softly. “If he asks, I’m going to tell him the truth, no matter what the consequences,”

“Good,” Bucky grunted. “I don’t _want_ you to lie to him.” He grimaced and wrapped his cybernetic arm around his middle.

Tony sighed and rolled over onto his back again, too uncomfortable with the idea of staring into Bucky’s eyes while lying next to him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what to say. I’m shit at this kind of thing,”

“It’s not your fault – or your problem,” Bucky said. He moved to sit up. “I’ll deal with it – just like everything else,”

Tony rolled over and reached out; he put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, stopping him. “I’m sorry I can’t be what you want,”

“I know you are,” Bucky said, softly. “I didn’t expect you to do anything when you found out, you know. It’s all in my head – not yours.”

Tony smiled weakly. “I shouldn’t have bolted like that,”

“It’s not your fault,” Bucky repeated, pulling free from Tony’s grasp. He turned towards the house and then stilled, his shoulders slumping. He turned around and sat down on the edge of the porch swing, looking defeated. He let his hands drop to his lap and stared at them. “I don’t want to lose you guys,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper. “I don’t want to lose him again,”

Tony hummed softly. “I don’t want you to lose him – or us – either,”

Bucky turned slowly. “Do you mean that?” His eyes seemed almost unnaturally large and frightened, as though he wasn’t so sure he was hearing the truth. It made Tony’s heart ache.

“Of course I mean it,” Tony said. He patted the porch swing beside him. “I’d like to try and be your friend,”

“You’re _already_ my friend,” Bucky said. He swallowed hard. “He’s lucky,”

“Damn right,” Tony said, cracking a smile. “He’s got both of us looking out for him. Of course he’s lucky,”

Bucky smiled sadly. “Sure,”

“You can lie down, you know,” Tony said, softly.

“Yeah?”

“Friends can sleep together,” Tony said. “And by sleep together, I mean platonically lie on the same porch swing,”

Bucky chuckled and made himself comfortable. “Alright,” he said. “I think I can do that,”

“Good,” Tony grumbled. “Now shut up. I need my afternoon nap, or I’m going to be very cranky at dinner time,”

 

 

“Did you two have a nice nap?” Steve asked.

Bucky stirred but didn’t wake. He was pressed up against the edge of the porch swing, still sprawled out on his back; his hand was stuck halfway between the two of them.

Tony smiled blearily up at Steve. “I guess it was an alright nap,” he said. “I mean, there was no you here to nap with, but it wasn’t horrible. He didn’t put his feet in my face and Mabel didn’t either so I guess things better than expected,”

“Did you talk with him about it?” Steve asked, his voice going soft.

“What do you mean?” Tony asked, his thoughts still fuzzy with sleep. Talk with _who_ about _what_?

“Clint and I had our own talk while we were jogging,” Steve said, clearing his throat. “It was very enlightening.”

“Oh,” Tony said. He hadn’t thought Clint was going to say anything to Steve, but somehow, he wasn’t surprised. Clint never had been very good at keeping his mouth shut. It was probably better this way. At least now he didn’t have to pretend that everything was fine. Tony glanced up at Steve, surveying his expression. Steve didn’t look angry, but he did look tired.

“Are you two going to be alright?” Steve asked, glancing down at Bucky. He smoothed down a wave in Bucky’s hair, his expression turning sorrowful. Bucky remained sleeping, oblivious to both the conversation and the physical contact; he looked a lot more fragile when he was asleep, and far less careworn.

“I’m pretty sure we’re all going to be fine,” Tony said, taking Steve’s hand in his. He kissed Steve’s knuckles. “We agreed not to tell you about it, though, so this is going to be kind of awkward,”

Steve chuckled. “I see,”

“Are you mad?” Tony asked, quietly. The thought of losing Steve made him want to curl up in a ball and die; he knew just how Bucky felt when it came to that kind of loss. Please, please, please, he chanted in his head, please don’t let me lose Steve.

“No, honey,” Steve said, shaking his head. He lifted himself up onto the porch swing and carefully slid into the gap between Tony and Bucky, rearranging Bucky’s hand so it was resting on Bucky’s stomach. He curled up against Tony’s side, resting his cheek on Tony’s shoulder and slipped his arm around Tony’s waist. “I’m not mad. I mean, I don’t like the fact that you were planning on hide it from me, but I get why you didn’t want to bring it up.”

“I should have told you last night,” Tony murmured. “I’m sorry, Steve,”

“Yes, you should have – but it’s alright. It wasn’t your story to tell,” Steve said. He squeezed Tony’s hand. “For future reference, I trust you both. I know nothing is ever going to happen between you two,” he said. He smiled softly at Tony. “I know I wasn’t really on the ball about what was happening with the three of us before, and I want you to know that I’m trying to fix that,”

Tony gave Steve’s knuckles another kiss. “You don’t need to fix _anything_ ,”

“But I’d like to,” Steve said. “I know I’m causing problems,”

“Steve,” Tony said, kissing Steve’s knuckles again. “Honey, you are not causing problems,”

“Tony,”

“Steve,”

Steve rolled closer; Tony wrapped his arm around him, hugging him close.

“We’re figuring things out as we go,” Tony said, resting his chin on the top of Steve’s head. “That’s how this kind of thing works. If something new happens, we’ll learn about it together. We’ll figure it out,”

“Alright,” Steve said. He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder and turned back to face Tony. “How is he really?”

“He’s afraid he’s going to lose you when you find out,” Tony said. “He doesn’t want to lose either of us, apparently.”

“Oh,” Steve murmured. “I didn’t think he’d be so afraid of me finding out. He’s not going to lose either of us – ever.” He ducked his head. “I’ll talk to him about it when he wakes up,”

“Ok,” Tony said. He planted a kiss on Steve’s forehead. “I was going to tell you eventually, you know,”

“I know,” Steve said. He smiled. “Clint said you looked kind of shocked when he told you – I figured you just needed time to process it. That’s why I asked Bucky to come early,”

Tony frowned. “You _called_ him? Wait – you _knew_ before I did? Good god – I think someone needs to staple Clint’s lips shut! How the hell is he a secret agent? He can’t keep a secret at all!”

“Well,” Steve said, tracing his fingers around the arc reactor’s outer casing through Tony’s shirt, “ _Technically_ it was Coulson who told me – not Clint,”

“ _Phil_ told you? What the hell!” Tony growled. “That bastard didn’t even drop _me_ a hint! He just sat there elbowing Clint!”

“I asked him not to let you know before we left to come here,” Steve said. “I wanted to talk to the two of you on my own without the team breathing down our necks.”

“I see,” Tony said, relaxing marginally. He had sort of felt the same way about the team. He was glad to have them around, but sometimes it was nice to take a break from everyone – well, everyone aside from Steve.

“I’m sorry. Maybe I should have talked to you about it first,” Steve murmured. “I guess I got a little carried away when I called to check up on Bucky. All I was going to do was remind him to pack enough for more than two days, but then we got to talking and he started mentioning how much he missed both of us, and I just kind of told him to come out early.” He smiled sheepishly.

Tony snorted and rolled his eyes. “Bullshit,”

“Tony,” Steve grumbled, slapping Tony’s chest.

“I _know_ you, Mr. America,” Tony chuckled. “You don’t screw up. You planned your evil plots down to the very last second,”

Steve scowled.

“Don’t worry. I love you, evil and all,” Tony said. He wrapped himself a little tighter around Steve. He ran his fingers through Steve’s hair and laughed when he found a piece of driftwood tangled there amidst the golden strands. “What were you doing today? Rolling in the sand?”

Steve grinned. “I tripped,”

“I can tell,” Tony chuckled. “Did you have fun?”

“I made it almost all the way down the beach this time,” Steve said, closing his eyes.

“That’s great!” Tony said. He gave Steve a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to go even further,” Steve mumbled, sleepily.

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll go with you,” Tony teased.

Steve smiled. “Maybe you’ll be able to keep up this time,”

“Meanie,” Tony said, stroking Steve’s cheek. “We can bring Bucky with us if you want. He can yell at us when we slow down,”

“I’m sure he’ll enjoy that,” Steve chuckled. “We’ll have to buy him a megaphone,”

“He’d probably like that,” Tony said. He glanced over top of Steve’s head and saw that Bucky was still snoring away; his mouth was open and there was drool dribbling down the side of his face. Tony smiled and closed his eyes.  They were going to be fine.

 

 


End file.
